Destruction
by CIandSVUcrazy
Summary: Alex's partner is murdered, beginning a chain of events threatening to destroy the life that she and Bobby have made together.
1. Boyd

**A/N: I'm back, with more multi-chapter angst for my two favourite characters. Leave a review if you have a chance :)  
**

* * *

_Bobby stood next to the baby's crib, looking down. The fact that Alex wasn't there cut to the core of him like a white-hot knife. He had told them, they didn't know Alex like he did. She had survived so much. She had been in many dangerous situations. Even now, there was a psychopath intending to hunt her down and kill her. How could she have survived all that, only to die in a situation that millions of women went through with no problem?_

_ She had already delivered another baby without complications, when her nephew was born. How could she have died having a baby? It didn't make any sense. He couldn't accept it. How could she survive dangerous situations with hardened criminals, only to die giving birth? _

_ The baby shifted, bringing Bobby's attention back to the small form in the crib. This baby was all he had left now. This baby was who Alex had died for. He had resented that fact only until his eyes fell onto the baby for the first time. He had felt nothing but love and protectiveness from the first moment he held his child in his arms. No, he didn't blame the baby. This baby was now his entire world. _

_Deciding that standing by the crib was not close enough, he reached in to pick the baby up. Only cradling the tiny infant against his chest, with their beating hearts separated only by flesh, bone, and flimsy fabric, could he have the baby close enough. _

_In a hospital room far away from where Bobby cradled the infant, Alex Eames lay unconscious, unaware that her husband held their baby and grieved for the wife he believed had died._

* * *

Chapter One – Boyd (_March 2009)_

Bobby was sitting at his desk, tapping a pen rhythmically against it, when Alex walked over to him. "I'm on break," she said, perching on the edge of his desk. Bobby looked up and saw her partner heading to the elevator. He wasn't sure where his partner had gone. Probably far away. No one else could put up with him the way Alex had.

"And you thought you'd come and distract me from my paperwork?" he asked, smiling.

"Ah, well, if you're too busy," she joked, getting up to walk away. He stood up and followed her. "Where is your partner anyway?" she asked. "Shouldn't you tell him you're taking your break now?"

"I don't know," Bobby replied. "I'm surprised he hasn't requested a new partner yet. Actually," he said thoughtfully, "he probably has, and it just hasn't gone through yet."

Alex clucked her tongue disapprovingly, but her smile betrayed that she wasn't really annoyed with him. "You should really try to hold on to a partner, Bobby."

"Okay," he replied, wrapping his arms around her as the elevator doors closed. She laughed, spinning around to face him.

"Not exactly what I meant, but this works," she said. He bent down to kiss her.

"Are you two doing okay, still?" Bobby asked after they broke apart. He had one hand resting on her back, the other over her abdomen.

"We're fine," Alex said.

"I just worry," Bobby fretted.

"I know," Alex replied. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

"I'll feel better once you're on leave," he replied.

"Will you?" she asked. "I've already been on desk for months. I have a feeling you'll keep worrying right up until the baby's born."

He frowned slightly. "Does that bother you?" he asked.

"No," she assured him. "Not really. If it makes you feel any better, this is my last day," she reminded him.

Bobby nodded. "You're in court for the rest of the afternoon, right?"

"Yes, I have to testify for the Boyd case."

Well, at least she wasn't out on the streets, hunting down criminals, he thought. She would probably be much safer in court. Even though she denied it, he knew that she got annoyed with him fussing over her. But he couldn't help it – he worried.

* * *

Alex had left the witness stand and was heading back towards the gallery. She was the last to testify, and the judge excused the jury to reach a verdict. After the combined effects of both her and her partner's testimony, she doubted Boyd would avoid jail time.

Alex's partner was waiting for her at the front of the gallery. _I'm pregnant, not incompetent! _She thought irritably. Between her two partners, she was lucky that she was allowed to walk around on her own. Both Bobby and Casselman insisted on being with her constantly, something she found both endearing and incredibly annoying.

The feeling of someone looking at her made her turn. Boyd was glowering at her from his seat at the defense table. She was about to turn away again when he leaned forward, and whispered, "I will _destroy _you."

Casselman was at her side in an instant. "What did you say?" he demanded aggressively.

A slow smile spread across Boyd's face. But it wasn't the smile of someone who was genuinely happy… more of someone who was taking great pleasure in something that was going to happen in the future. "I said," Boyd repeated, "I'm going to destroy you… All of you," he added, including both Alex and Casselman in his unblinking gaze.

"If you're not careful, Boyd," Alex snapped, "we'll add harassment to the charges against you."

Casselman looked ready to say more, but Alex was used to reigning in her young fiery partner. "Come on Casselman," she said quietly, so only he could hear. "Boyd's just trying to get a rise out of you."

Casselman allowed her to lead him from the courtroom. "You okay?" she asked when they left.

"Fine," Casselman replied. "Did it not bother you, what Boyd said back there?"

Alex shrugged. "I've had plenty of perps threaten me. It stops getting to you after a while. But you can still report what he said."

"No," Casselman said. "I'm not going to rise to the bait."

"Boyd doesn't have to know," Alex said. "It's protocol to report what he said. No one's going to think you're scared, Casselman," she added, smiling. "I would appreciate it if you could report it though, because it's my last day and I'd rather not prolong it. You can file the report tomorrow."

"Right," Casselman said. "It was a pleasure to work with you Detective Eames," he said formally, shaking her hand.

"You as well, Casselman," she replied.

She turned to leave. "Eames?" Casselman asked, following her. "I could walk you to your car, if you want."

"That's okay, Casselman," Alex replied. "My other bodyguard is waiting." She indicated Bobby, who was standing at the courthouse doors.

Casselman blushed. He hadn't realized it had been so obvious that he was trying to look after his pregnant partner. She was the senior partner after all, and could certainly take care of herself.

Alex smiled and turned back to clap a hand onto his shoulder. "You're next partner is lucky to have you," she said. Casselman blushed an even deeper red.

"I guess I'll see you at the wedding," he said. He was set to marry his fiancé a month after Alex's due date. He had invited her, Bobby, and the baby to the wedding. Alex had been touched to see that he remembered the due date, and had included the baby in the wedding invitation.

"I'll be there," she replied.

"Take care," Casselman said. He waved to Bobby, and left. Alex approached her husband smiling. Any thoughts either of them had concerning Boyd had vanished… but his thoughts were still focused on them.

* * *

"Eames," she muttered into the phone. Next to her, Bobby was also sitting up, woken by her phone.

"Jessie?" she asked. "Slow down honey, what's wrong?"

Bobby frowned with concern as Alex blanched. "I'm coming over," she said. "I'll be there in ten minutes." She hung up the phone and let her hand drop woodenly to the bed.

"What is it?" Bobby demanded. "What happened?"

"That was Jessie," Alex said. "Cassleman's fiancee." She turned to face Bobby, and took a deep breath before forcing the words that rose like poison out from her lips. "She said that he was murdered."


	2. Cassleman

Chapter Two – Cassleman _(March 2009)_

"Boyd, he threatened Casselman," Alex continued. She had a feeling she was babbling, but she couldn't seem to stop. "He threatened both of us in the courtroom yesterday. I didn't take it seriously because I didn't think Boyd had those kinds of connections but I don't know who else would do this…"

"Take a breath, Alex," Bobby said. "I know this is tough, and I'm sorry, but you need to relax."

"Right," Alex agreed, settling. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Bobby replied. He wasn't used to being the voice of reason. Alex didn't normally get upset like this, but she and Casselman had gotten close in their partnership.

Before they could continue their conversation they had pulled up at the house and he and Alex had both slipped out of the car, holding their badges out as they approached the crime scene tape. "Major Case," Alex called to the uniformed officer.

"Sorry guys," the young cop apologized. "You know I can't let you near this one."

"That's my partner," Alex snapped.

"Then I really can't let you in," the officer said. "I'm really sorry."

"Like hell you can't!"

"Alex," Bobby said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "He's just doing his job."

She turned away, pinching the bridge of her nose. A sure sign that she was stressed, Bobby knew. "Listen," Bobby said to the officer. "Could we just speak to one of the detectives in there who might know something?"

"I'll see what I can do," the man replied sympathetically.

Fifteen minutes later, a detective approached them. "Pewter, Homicide," he introduced himself.

"Goren and Eames, Major Case," Bobby returned, indicating himself and Alex. "Is there anything you can tell us?"

"Nothing good I'm afraid," Pewter replied grimly. "The ME said that preliminary cause of death was a suicide."

"Suicide?" Alex echoed sharply.

"I'm afraid so," Pewter replied.

"No," Alex stated flatly. "Absolutely not."

"Well, the ME still has to do an autopsy of course," Pewter conceded, "But judging from the crime scene that's really what it looked like."

"Well they're wrong!" Alex snapped. "He had no sign of depression – I just talked to him today! He's getting married soon! A guy like Casselman doesn't just kill himself out of the blue without any warning."

"Let me guess," Pewter said. "You're his partner."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Alex," Bobby warned. The other detective was looking less sympathetic now, and Bobby had a feeling that they were about to get sent away from the crime scene. He felt that she was justified in her reaction, but he didn't know Pewter.

"I'm sorry about your partner," Pewter said. "But you may just need to accept this."

"I won't," Alex replied coldly.

Pewter's gaze became visibly harder. "I need to get back to the crime scene." He turned and went back in.

"You do that," Alex muttered darkly. "Try some real investigating!"

"You're lucky he didn't hear that," Bobby commented.

"Oh, like you can even talk after all the stunts you've pulled!"

"I'm sorry," Bobby said softly. He reached forward to pull her into his arms, not caring who was looking at them. "I'm sorry about your partner."

"I'm sorry too," she echoed, her voice wavering. "He was a good man."

* * *

"Boyd threatened us in the courtroom that day," Alex repeated.

"What exactly did he say?" the detective asked.

"He said: I will destroy you," Alex recalled.

"Kind of a vague threat," the detective commented.

"That's what I thought," Alex agreed. "I didn't take him seriously."

"But now you do," the detective inferred. "Why?"

"The fact that Cassleman's been murdered, to start," Alex snapped.

"We haven't determined cause of death yet," he cautioned.

Alex snorted impatiently. "He didn't commit suicide." Alex pictured the look on Boyd's face when he had threatened them. The look in his eyes… crazy eyes; that's what he had. She should have realized he was serious… But she hadn't known that he was connected enough to arrange a hit from the inside.

"Boyd's a sadist," Alex explained. "He got off on the pain of the victims. Not just physical, although he did use a multitude of weapons to torture his victims. He also liked to torment them mentally. He recorded torture sessions and told the victims that he would send the tapes to their family. He did – and set up cameras so that he could watch their reactions, and force his victims to watch. He played torture tapes from previous victims when he wasn't around to do it himself. He played mind games with them. To him, watching them lose their minds gave him about as much pleasure as the physical violence he used against them."

"We're all in agreement that this guy is a real sicko," the detective assured her, "We just can't be sure he's the one who murdered your partner. If he's such a sadist – why make the murder look like a suicide? Why not torture the victim?"

"A cop killing would have to be quick to avoid detection," Alex reasoned. "And besides, Boyd wasn't the one to do the kill – he's still locked up."

"We still have to keep an open mind," the detective said. "Are you sure you can't think of anyone else?"

"I never heard anyone else threaten him," Alex replied.

"Okay, thanks for your help."

Alex watched the detective leave, frowning at his back. Bobby came over and sat down next to her. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"I'm thinking," Alex replied vaguely. "He's right – Boyd would have wanted some gratification from the kill. To see his handiwork in some way, in order to enjoy the havoc he was wreaking."

The two remained silent for a time, both thinking. Bobby broke the silence, saying, "You said that Boyd set up cameras in the houses of the victim's family, in order to watch their reactions to the tapes?"

Alex didn't bother to answer; she simply whipped out her phone to call the detective back. "Check the house for cameras," she instructed, not even bothering with anything else.

"If Boyd's behind this," Alex said to Bobby after she hung up, "He'll have had someone set up cameras to see Jessie's reaction."

"Not to mention the investigation," Bobby agreed. Suddenly, he shot up and began prowling the room, peering into things such as the heating vents.

"Bobby?" Alex asked, trying to contain a laugh at his sudden transformation into some sort of hunting animal. "What are you doing?"

"Searching for cameras," he replied.

"Bobby…"

"If Boyd went after Cassleman, he could very well be coming after you!" Bobby said shortly. "I won't take that risk. I can't."

* * *

"They found cameras at Cassleman's place," Alex informed Bobby. He nodded.

"But none at our place," Alex reminded him. "So you can stop looking so worried now."

"But he threatened both of you."

"Yes," Alex admitted. "But-"

"What exactly did he say, again?" Bobby interrupted, his characteristic thoughtful frown creasing his features.

"He said I'm going to destroy you," Alex repeated. "All of you."

"All of you?" Bobby repeated.

"Yes."

Bobby's frown deepened. "But he was talking to you and Cassleman?"

"Yes," Alex agreed, trying to figure out where he was going with his questions.

When he realized she was looking at him questioningly, he explained, "Well, it's just that the correct way to threaten two people is: I'm going to destroy _both_ of you."

"So what?" Alex asked. "Boyd used the wrong word. Does it really matter?"

Bobby remained silent for a moment longer. "No," he conceded. "I guess not."

"Anyway, they're tracing Boyd's visitor and call log, trying to figure out who he contacted to arrange it," Alex said. "But if he talked to someone on the inside, we're going to have a hard time figuring out who it was."

"I'm going to go and question Boyd," Bobby said. "He's got nothing to lose, really. Maybe he'll be ready to take credit for the kill; take pride in it."

Alex nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe. I'll come with you."

"No," Bobby insisted. "I don't want you anywhere near him."

"I can handle it," Alex replied irritably. "Besides, he's in a prison. No one's going to let him try anything."

"He's going to try and get a reaction from you, about Cassleman's death."

"I can handle it!" Alex insisted again.

"Your anger will be just what he wants," Bobby told her. "You'd really be playing right into his hands by going to see him."

Alex huffed irritably. "Fine!" she snapped. "You know I don't want to give him what he wants. But I'll have you know that _I _know you're just using that as an excuse because you don't want me there."

"That's not the point…" Bobby tried, his cheeks flushing.

"That's exactly the point and you know it," Alex scolded. "Maybe I won't be playing into Boyd's hands; I'll just be playing into yours." She shook her head.

"I love you," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"I love you too, but I'm still angry with you," she informed him. "And I'm not forgiving you until at least tonight. Now go on, I want to hear what Boyd has to say."

* * *

"Hello, Detective Goren," Boyd greeted as soon as Bobby walked through the door.

Bobby decided not to engage in Boyd's small talk. He wanted the upper hand, wanted to play games. By refusing to acknowledge anything but what he came to ask about, Bobby wasn't playing his part. "I'm here to ask you what you know about the murder of Detective Cassleman," he said instead.

"I heard that the poor man committed suicide," Boyd commented. Rather than irritate him, Boyd leaned forward, engaged by Bobby's refusal to exchange pleasantries.

"You heard, did you?" Bobby asked sharply. "How?"

"Oh, I could never reveal my sources," Boyd began to say. He was cut off by Bobby continuing.

"And did you have any part in Detective Cassleman's death?"

Now Boyd was annoyed. He frowned, but quickly covered it with a smile, readjusting in his seat so that he fully faced Bobby. "If I did, why would I admi-"

"Then you deny you ordered a hit on the detective who helped put you away?"

"My, my, detective," Boyd commented, no trace of a smile left. "I find your interruptions very-"

"Just answer the question," Bobby interrupted again.

There, he had done it. There was that gleam in Boyd's eyes, the look on his face, the expression of a killer. Bobby had brought out the true Boyd. But that didn't mean he was done playing games.

Boyd leaned forward over the table, and began speaking softly and quickly, "Yes, maybe I did, detective. Maybe I did order a hit. But you can't prove it or you would have done something about it by now. You only have your gut feeling. But there was another detective who played a part in my arrest; there was another who sealed my fate with her testimony."

He leaned back, satisfied, watching Bobby for signs of distress. Bobby was careful to reveal nothing. "Yes, I know about that," he said simply. "As for evidence, we have the cameras put up in Cassleman's apartment for you to watch, because you like to see the result of your handiwork."

"Oh yes," Boyd agreed. "The look on poor Jessica's face when she saw her dead fiancée was just priceless…"

"So you do admit that you have a part in his death," Bobby asked. He stuck to the part, stuck to what he was supposed to say… but something was wrong. Boyd was too relaxed; he had given in too easily.

"I do love watching the faces of loved ones when they realize what I've done," Boyd continued casually, as if he hadn't heard the question. "The shock, the grief… the panic." Bobby felt his heart sinking. Boyd was up to something, poised for the kill. Right as Bobby realized that panic wasn't what Boyd should have seen on Jessie's face when she found Cassleman, Boyd started speaking again. "How long do you think it takes to break into a house, find someone, overpower them, kill them, and stage the scene?" he asked, his pleasure growing more evident as Bobby began to rise from his chair. "And how long, detective?" Boyd asked, his voice echoing with glee, "How long do you think you've been away from Detective Eames?"

The sound of Boyd's laughter bounced off the walls, growing louder, as Bobby began banging on the door and yelling for the guard. "I knew you would come!" Boyd accused gleefully. "And I knew you'd never let _her_ come! Look at me detective; let me see the panic!" He began laughing again, the sound chasing after Bobby as he fled the room.


	3. Abruption

**A/N: Although I did some research for this chapter, I'm sure there are probably still medical mistakes to follow. All mistakes are mine.**

* * *

Chapter Three – Abruption _(March 2009)_

Using his own set of lights and sirens, Bobby made it back to the apartment building where he and Alex lived just as they were loading her into an ambulance. An ambulance – that meant she was still alive.

He had called ahead as he left the prison to enlist help to get to his house. Boyd must have planned this. He was only lucky that Alex had survived. Bobby threw himself from the vehicle, rushing over. "What happened?" he demanded. "Is she alright?"

"She should be fine," one of the paramedics told him. "Looks like she fell down the stairs on her way to the laundry room." He shut the door and went around to the front of the ambulance.

First a suicide, then an accident. Boyd didn't seem to be eager to take the wrap for these murders. Then again, he had as much as confessed to Bobby just that afternoon. And whoever he had hired hadn't gotten the job done – for which Bobby was grateful. They hadn't bothered to see if Alex had survived the fall. Or they had been interrupted.

But all of that could wait. Bobby launched himself back into the vehicle, turned on the lights and sirens, and followed the ambulance to the hospital.

* * *

"Mr. Goren?"

Bobby jumped up out of his chair in the waiting room. "Yes. How is she?"

"She's doing quite well," the doctor assured him. "She has a concussion, but there doesn't seem to be any sign of brain swelling or bleeding at this point. We'd like to keep her overnight just to be sure no complications follow. She has multiple abrasions and contusions from the fall, but luckily no broken bones."

"And the baby?" Bobby asked.

The doctor paused just long enough for Bobby's stomach to drop, before saying, "There was some minimal vaginal bleeding when she came in, but vitals were stable for both your wife and the baby. As of right now, the baby is fine, but I've consulted an OB/GYN, Dr. Fuller. She'll be in to talk to the two of you shortly."

"So they're both okay?" Bobby asked.

"Yes," the doctor confirmed. "But as I said, we're keeping your wife in for monitoring for the next twenty-four hours to make sure there aren't any complications."

"Thank you," Bobby said.

The doctor told him where to find Alex's room, and he rushed over. Pushing the door open, he whispered, "Alex?"

She was lying in the bed, with a few monitors beeping besides her. Bobby could see some scrapes and bruises along one of her arms and the side of her face. She blinked her eyes open at the sound of his voice. "Bobby," she greeted. She sounded tired.

He hurried over and seized one of her hands. "How are you?" he asked.

"Fine," she replied. "Tired. Sore. My head is killing me. But fine."

"Did they tell you anything?" he asked.

"About what happened?" She scrunched her eyebrows, thinking. "They said I fell down the stairs at our apartment," she said. "I don't remember, thanks to the concussion. I guess I must have miss stepped…"

"It was Boyd," Bobby said furiously.

"Boyd?" Alex asked.

"I was going to question him… You – you don't remember?" Bobby faltered.

"Boyd," she repeated slowly, thinking. "Cassleman… the cameras…"

"That's right," Bobby encouraged.

"But I had the laundry with me," Alex said, confused. "It was there, at the bottom of the stairs."

"It was a frame-job. Just like with Cassleman."

"Or it really was an accident," Alex said. "Trying to make it down the stairs with baby and the laundry basket blocking the view of my own feet… I probably just missed a step."

"Were you planning on doing laundry?" Bobby asked.

"No, but I might have decided to after you left… I can't remember. But it doesn't seem like the type of thing Boyd would do."

"Neither was the way Cassleman was murdered, but Boyd as much as confessed to it when I questioned him. He threatened you, and then you supposedly fall down the stairs?"

"If Boyd wanted me dead, I would have been an easy target unconscious at the bottom of the stairs," Alex said. "Well I would have been," she said when Bobby flinched.

"But the timing," he said. "Right when I'm questioning Boyd, he makes a threat against you."

"Well of course he did!" Alex exclaimed. "Didn't you warn me that he would try and get a reaction out of me because my partner was murdered? He was doing the same thing with you. He was playing you, Bobby!"

"And then you end up in the hospital? That's some coincidence!"

Alex groaned and closed her eyes. "I already have a headache; can we please argue about this later?"

"I'm sorry," Bobby said quickly. He had been up and pacing the room; now he went over and snatched up her hand again. "Alex, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." His guilty eyes found hers, and she sighed.

"It's so difficult to stay angry with you when you give me that look," she said, a small smile playing at her lips.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't want to push my luck, especially after what happened during my suspension..."

"Oh, Bobby," Alex groaned, pulling her hand away to massage her temples. "Why would you bring that up again? Can't you let it rest? My head hurts to damn much to indulge you in a guilt trip right now."

Bobby set his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. Why did he have to open his mouth? Especially right now. The last thing she needed was for him to remind her of that. The night he returned from suspension he had managed to turn what should have been a day of celebration into a night of anger thanks to his antics.

He had been on suspension after his rogue undercover mission at Tate's Corrections. After his own wife had nearly shot him during a raid when he had been undercover again, a heated discussion had ensued in the interrogation viewing room and continued at the apartment that night.

_"What on earth were you thinking, Bobby?"_

_ "I had to get my shield back," he repeated. _

_ "You keep saying that!" she snapped. _

_ "Well, you keep asking."_

_ "Well, that's not good enough!"_

_ "It's already done," Bobby sighed. "There's nothing I can do about it now."_

_ "Well you damn well had the chance long before now!" she raged. "You could have at least gotten word to me so I could know that there was a strong chance you could get your head blown off!"_

_ "Alex…"_

_ "Don't!" she yelled. "We're married, Bobby. You're supposed to be honest with me; trust me!"_

_ "I know we're married," Bobby answered guiltily. "But that's all the more reason why I had to protect you from this."_

_ "Protect me?" she shrieked. "How is you getting yourself killed protecting me?"_

_ "Well, I wasn't supposed to get myself killed; obviously that wasn't part of the plan."_

_ "Oh, really?" she asked, laughing humorously. "Not part of the plan? My God, Bobby, didn't you think? Didn't you think for one second of what it would do to me to lose you?"_

_ "I didn't mean to… I didn't want for that to happen," he stammered. _

_ "You could have died," she said, tears of anger and fear filling her eyes. "You almost did. You would have died and left me to raise our child on my own!"_

_ "I… what?"_

_ "I'm pregnant, you asshole!" she yelled. "Something I might already have told you if you weren't too busy out trying to get yourself killed!" And with that, she slammed their bedroom door shut in his face. _

"I'm sorry," Bobby repeated. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Damn right," she muttered.

"Alex?"

"What?"

"I love you."

She opened her eyes again, meeting his apologetic gaze. "I love you too, you goof," she sighed.

"Forgive me?" he asked.

"Maybe."

He nodded, dropping his gaze to his hands. It was about as much as he could ask for right now. She laughed softly, pulling his eyes back up to hers. "Oh, wipe that look off of your face," she said. "As if I could even make you feel any worse than you already do. You're forgiven. Just please try not to bring it up again."

"I won't," he said quickly.

"You will," she disagreed. "You're like the poster boy for emotional turmoil. It's as though you want me to be angry with you often enough to feed some need for guilt. It drives me crazy."

"Believe it or not, I actually don't try to make you angry on purpose," he said, slightly irritated with this accusation.

They were prevented from continuing their discussion by the door opening. "Hello, I'm Doctor Fuller," the woman said. "I saw you earlier," she said to Alex, "but you probably don't remember."

"No, sorry," Alex replied.

"That's quite alright," the doctor replied. "You were pretty groggy still. I had done a physical exam and an ultrasound, and checked your baby's vitals. I just have a few questions before we discuss your case."

"Okay," Alex agreed.

"Are you experiencing any abdominal pain or tenderness?"

"Just some dull pain from the fall," Alex replied.

"Any cramping?"

"No."

The doctor approached the bed. "I'm just going to feel along your belly, and you let me know if you feel any pain or tenderness, okay?"

Alex started to nod and then stopped, wincing. "Sure," she said instead.

Bobby shoved his chair back out of the way, watching Alex's face for any signs of pain. He noticed her wince only once, something Dr. Fuller noticed too. Before she could ask, Alex explained, "I've got a hematoma there from the fall."

"A hematoma?" the doctor asked, continuing her exam while watching her patient's face. "You in the medical field?"

"No," Alex replied. "NYPD."

"NYPD," Dr. Fuller echoed. "Tough job."

Alex shrugged in response. She was exhausted. She felt as though she'd run a marathon and then been run over by a truck at the finish line.

"Okay, that's it," the doctor said. "Now, as for your baby," she said, flipping open the chart she was holding, "he or she is looking pretty good right now. How far along are you?"

"Thirty-three weeks," Alex replied.

"Yes, I figured it was about then," Dr. Fuller mused.

"So the baby's okay?" Alex asked.

"You had some minor vaginal bleeding when you were brought in," the doctor began. "I did a thorough examination, during which time the bleeding stopped. I believe that a partial placental abruption occurred."

"What does that mean?" Bobby asked nervously.

"It means that part of the placenta came off of the uterine wall," the doctor explained. "Usually the cause of an abruption is unknown, but it can occur due to trauma, such as a fall. Severe or complete abruptions can lead to significant blood loss and require an immediate caesarian section, but yours was only partial with minimal blood loss. With a partial abruption it is sometimes recommended to proceed with delivery. However, we prefer to wait until at least thirty-four weeks before delivery. Your baby is just shy of that mark."

"So, you're not going to deliver the baby?" Bobby confirmed.

"I'd like to wait until the baby is more developed," the doctor agreed. "Even another week or two increases the baby's chance of being healthy at birth."

"But if the placenta has started to come off the uterine wall; there's a risk that it could come completely unattached, isn't there?" Bobby asked.

"Yes," Dr. Fuller said. "That's why we would need you to stay on bed rest," she instructed Alex. "No physical exertion of any kind – and that most certainly includes chasing down criminals," she added lightly. "I'd need you to remain as relaxed and rested as possible, and watch for any signs of complications."

"And what would happen if the placenta was to detach any more?" Bobby asked. "Or all the way?"

Dr. Fuller paused. "I'm going to be straight with you," she said. Bobby and Alex nodded, wanting to hear the honest truth. "If there was to be a complete abruption, the consequences would be severe," she warned.

"Life-threatening?" Bobby asked, fear starting to constrict his throat.

"Yes."

Alex squeezed Bobby's hand reassuringly. "For me or the baby?" she asked.

"Both," Dr. Fuller replied. "If a complete abruption were to occur, it would lead to significant blood loss. This could cause you to go into hypovolemic shock, and deprive the baby of oxygen and nutrients."

"Okay," Alex said, nodding and then cringing at the pain the movement caused.

"How much of a risk is there of that happening?" Bobby asked.

"I can't really give you any odds," Dr. Fuller said sympathetically. "Each case is different. I can tell you that the fact that the bleeding stopped pretty quickly, there's no abdominal pain or cramping, and the baby's vitals are stable are all good signs."

"So everything is going to be fine," Alex said.

"I don't like to make guarantees," the doctor cautioned. "Watch for any signs of complications. If you experience any bleeding, cramping, or pain, even if it's only minor or intermittent, you need to come back in immediately. Also, there may be minimal or even no overt bleeding even with a complete abruption, as the blood can sometimes become trapped. If you experience any sudden or extreme fatigue it could be a sign of blood loss, and again, I would urge you to come back in and have them page me immediately. I'm going to come back in and do another ultrasound before you go tomorrow, but minor bleeding is sometimes difficult to detect, so again I urge you to be cautious of any increase in fatigue."

"But I can go home tomorrow?" Alex confirmed.

"Yes," Dr. Fuller replied. "Keep up with your regular check-ups and watch for any changes."

"I'm going to call your sister tonight," Bobby said nervously after the doctor left. "I'll see if she can stay with you while I'm at work."

"No need," Alex replied. "I'll be fine."

"I'd really rather someone stayed with you," Bobby insisted. "You're supposed to stay rested."

"My sister has a four-year-old son to take care of," Alex argued. "She doesn't need to be baby-sitting me on top of that."

"Your nephew's in school during the day," Bobby countered.

"And Liz will have better things to do with her time than hanging around our apartment all day."

"Well, maybe your parents can trade off days with Liz, and I'll talk to Ross and get off work early," Bobby suggested.

"Please do not get my parents involved," Alex moaned. "They'll just worry."

"But I'm sure they'd want to help."

"Knowing they're worrying will just stress me out," Alex countered. "And," she added mischievously, "You know I'm supposed to be rested and relaxed."

"Please don't joke about this," Bobby snapped. "We're talking about your health here."

Alex sighed. "Listen, Bobby. How about we agree that you call me when you're on break to check in on me, and I'll be a good girl and stay in the apartment resting while you're at work. I promise I won't go down the stairs to do any more laundry."

"Alright," he sighed. "But if you need anything during the day-"

"I'll wait for you or call Liz," she assured him. "Promise."

"Okay," Bobby agreed. Alex's eyes had drifted closed again. "Get some sleep," he said softly.

"You too," she murmured.

As if he could possibly sleep. He sat vigil by her bed, ears tuned to the steady rhythms of the room – the steady sound of her breathing and the multiple sounds of beeping machines.


	4. Worry

Chapter Four – Worry _(March 2009)_

"I thought you were only going to call me on your breaks?" Alex asked.

"I am on break," Bobby replied.

"This is your fifth, no, make that your sixth break," Alex chastised.

"So?"

"So," she said, "It's unusual for you to even take more than one."

"I just wanted to check on you," he explained.

"So it seems," she replied.

"How are you feeling?"

"Annoyed," she replied.

"But really," Bobby insisted, "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she insisted through gritted teeth. "But you won't be if you call me to ask one more time. I might have to assign you a quota for how many times you can ask me how I'm feeling in a day."

"I just-"

"Worry," she supplied. "I know." She considered sarcastically suggesting that he be grateful she wasn't undercover attempting to be killed, but decided better of it. "I'm not answering if you call me again today," she said instead.

"If you don't answer I'm coming straight home," he replied. "Lights and sirens."

"Oh brother," she muttered.

"What are you doing?" he asked, hearing the front door creak.

"I'm getting the mail," she replied.

"You're supposed to be on bed rest!" Bobby snapped.

"Bed _rest_, not bed _a_rrest!" she countered. "Do you want to install handcuffs to the bedposts?"

She was met with silence. Then, "No," he muttered sullenly.

"I literally walked to the front door, and back to the bedroom," she said with exaggerated slowness. "There's nothing to…"

"Alex?" he asked.

"On second thought, maybe you could just come home now."

"Why; what's wrong?"

"Someone left a message," Alex replied.

* * *

"Do you believe me now?" Bobby demanded, pacing restlessly.

"Yes, yes," Alex replied testily.

Someone had left a letter, threatening her life, along with a photograph of her at the bottom of the stairs with the mail outside their apartment door.

"I'm getting a surveillance car for outside of the apartment," Bobby insisted.

"To look for what?" Alex demanded. "It's not like Boyd can come on in by himself!"

"Well, then at least they can be close by if someone shows up again," Bobby insisted.

"You're not going to give up on this, are you?"

"Nope."

"Fine," she sighed. "But a fat lot of good it'll do."

* * *

"Are you doing okay?" Bobby asked as he came in the door, the same as he did every day.

"No," Alex replied sarcastically. "I became critical since you called me right before you left."

"That's not funny."

"Neither is the fact that you're driving me crazy," she countered.

"I'm not trying to drive you crazy," Bobby said, throwing his suit jacket over the back of a chair. "I'm concerned."

"Well, maybe you could at least start with hello when you come in the door," Alex suggested. "If there was something wrong, I would tell you. Okay?"

"Okay," Bobby agreed sheepishly. He knew he was irritating her, and he really didn't mean to, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

"Did they find any leads on Cassleman?" Alex asked hesitantly.

"No," Bobby replied. "But I thought you might be glad to know that the ME ruled his death a homicide – not a suicide."

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. "Good," she said. "What convinced them?"

"The toxicology report," Bobby replied. "They found traces of a paralytic in his system."

"Hard to shoot yourself when you're paralyzed," Alex stated.

Bobby nodded in reply. "But the angle was right, and his hand was covered in gunshot residue. It's not surprising that the initial investigation pointed to a suicide."

"The gun was in his hand, the gunshot residue, and the angle – this guy is good," Alex said. "But then, why the paralytic? It's almost the perfect crime."

"My guess?" Bobby asked. "The perp used it so that he could put the gun in Cassleman's hand, and pull the trigger with his own finger; literally making him shoot himself. It would get the angle right and cause there to be gunshot residue on the victim's hands."

An image of someone grabbing Cassleman's hand and playing the 'stop hitting yourself' game that little kids did filled Alex's mind, making her feel sick. "The paralytic wouldn't knock him out, would it?" she asked.

"No," Bobby replied. "He would have been aware of everything happening."

"But unable to stop it," Alex finished. "Sick bastard."

"Boyd is of course the lead suspect," Bobby continued, trying to distract her from thoughts of her partner's last moments. "But he isn't giving it up. And we still have no idea who he could have contacted to make the hit. He has no known gang affiliations; he hasn't even teamed up with a gang for protection inside. He doesn't have any close family or friends that we could find. There wasn't any physical evidence at the crime scene, or on the photograph that was left outside our door." Bobby stopped his monologue, frowning. "It still bothers me that he knows where we live. Maybe we should go somewhere else."

"You already said we have no proof," Alex said. "We'd be running away for who knows how long? Besides, we already said this guy is thorough. He'd just find us if we moved."

"I suppose you're right," Bobby sighed. "But I still don't like it."

"We'll be distracted soon enough," Alex said, smiling.

For the first time in days, Bobby also smiled. "You're right," he agreed.

"Mom stopped by today with another blanket," Alex said.

"Another?" Bobby asked. "This baby already has so many blankets – the majority knitted by your mother. Is it another yellow one?"

Since they had decided not to find out the baby's sex, the room was painted a soft yellow, with the majority of the accessories in yellows and greens. In the interest of being prepared (or so was her excuse), Penny had knitted a blanket in yellow, green, orange, and red before saying that if the baby was a girl, she needed a pink blanket or a boy needed blue. She and a few friends had also made a beautiful patchwork quilt.

"Actually, it wasn't one blanket, it was three," Alex replied, grinning. "She made a purple one and a blue and red checkered one, and then apparently realized that we now had just as many gender-specific blankets as we did uni-sex blankets. So she whipped up a green and yellow striped blanket, and promised to bring another one next time."

Bobby raised his eyebrows. "Did you tell her we have enough blankets to swaddle all the infants in this building?"

Alex laughed. "No, but she did make a fair point. She reminded me that babies are messy, and there's a good chance that we'll already have laundry piling up constantly. At least this way we won't ever need to worry about running out of blankets."

"I suppose," Bobby agreed, shaking his head with a smile on his face. Penny was at least as excited for the new baby as they were. The fact that she already had three grandchildren did nothing to dampen her enthusiasm. He wondered if his own mother would have been as excited as Alex's.

Though his mother wasn't the type to knit a few dozen blankets, Bobby was certain that she would have made her pleasure known in her own way. She had always wanted grandchildren. Though he had dealt with her schizophrenia for as long as he could remember, the cancer had ravaged her much quicker than he had anticipated. It pained him to think that she had missed meeting her grandchild by less than a year.

"Hey," Alex said softly. "Where'd you're mind go just now?"

"Nothing, nowhere," Bobby said quickly, not wanting to dampen the happiness they had just shared. At her look, he sighed and gave in. "I was just thinking about Ma."

Alex reached out to take his hand, eyes filled with sympathy. "I'm sorry, Bobby," she said. "I wish she could have been here with us."

"I just wish she could have held our child, even once," Bobby lamented. "If she even could have known that she was to be a grandmother… It would have meant a lot to her."

"I'd like to think she knows," Alex said.

"Yes," Bobby agreed. "I would too."

"Well," Bobby said after a short silence, changing the subject, "It's only a few more weeks until the due date. Have you given any more thought to names?"

"No," Alex replied. "I really think we have to see the baby before picking a name."

"We could have a few ready, and make the final choice after the baby is born," Bobby coaxed. He didn't like the thought of being unprepared.

"Some people say it's bad luck to have too much ready before the baby's born," Alex said in reply. "And we already have the room completely ready. Picking names will just invite more trouble than we already have," she said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Hmm," Bobby replied. "You're not usually the one to bring up information like that."

"I come from a pretty big family," Alex replied. "My brother and sister already have kids. I may not know anything about museums in Egypt, but I do know all about baby lore."

Bobby laughed, Alex joining in. "If it will make you feel better, I can take the crib down," Bobby joked.

"Oh no," Alex replied with false concern. "I know how you like to have things prepared. The sight of a dismantled crib will set you on edge. I don't think I can cope with any more of your nervous energy."

"Are you saying it's my fault if we have bad luck?" Bobby asked in mock rage.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Alex laughed. "Blame the man – I hear there'll be a lot more of that going around in the delivery room too. You might as well be prepared."

"Well, that's just great," Bobby replied. "Did you blame Pete last time?" Bobby asked, referring to her nephew's delivery.

"No, although I did threaten to strangle my sister," Alex recalled. "Mom made her leave the room until my nephew was born."

"Maybe I should duck out too…"

"Don't you dare!" Alex exclaimed, smacking his arm. "Whose hand will I break if you're not there?"

"That's really convincing me," Bobby joked. "How about I let Penny take care of the hand-holding?"

"You wouldn't!" she insisted. "Don't even kid me, Bobby, you'll be there. You wouldn't miss our baby's birth."

"You're right," he said, picking up her hand. "I'll be there. Promise. Even if you break my hand." He kissed hers, as though sealing his promise.

"I know," she replied, the mood suddenly dropping from one of light-hearted fun, to a more sombre feeling.

"I love you," he added, his tone now one of complete seriousness.

"I love you too," she replied.

As they got ready for bed, Bobby couldn't help but feel nervous for some reason. For all his kidding around, he was worried for the upcoming delivery. The next few weeks would be plenty of time for his nerves to fray; not helped at all by the constant threat of what Boyd might have planned and by Alex's recent tumble down the stairs.

Any time he had been happy, he had always been waiting for the other shoe to drop. But hadn't it already done so? With the threat of Boyd and the complication? But then, could one really neatly tally up all the good and bad in their lives to predict a conclusion? Of course not. In any case, there was much more positive than negative right now.

Bobby sighed. He was looking for a pattern where there wasn't one. Life was too unpredictable. It was quite possible that everything would turn out perfectly, all of the anxiety of the present completely forgotten in a year's time. Then again, it was equally likely that everything would fall to pieces. Bobby rolled over to his side, trying to quiet his thoughts. But he couldn't dislodge the sense of foreboding he felt creeping up on him. It took a long time for him to fall asleep that night.


	5. Panic

**A/N: Again, I apologize for any/all medical errors in the next chapter.**

* * *

Chapter Five – Panic _(March 2009)_

Bobby awoke with a start to the sound of a loud crash. He immediately reached for Alex, but she wasn't there.

He leapt out of the bed. "Alex?" he called. "What happened – are you okay?"

"I just fell," came the reply.

He rushed to the bathroom, where her voice was coming from.

"I tripped over the bathmat and-" she broke off with a sharp intake of breath.

"Alex?" he asked urgently, his panic rising. His only answer was a moan of pain coming from the other side of the door. "ALEX!" He twisted the handle. "Alex are you okay?"

There was the sound of shallow, fast breathing. Then, "No." The word was followed by a small whimper of pain. And Alex didn't ever admit that she wasn't okay; or give in to pain enough to make a sound. These two things combined sent Bobby's level of panic rising to a new level.

"Alex, are you near the door?" Bobby managed to choke out past the thick clump of fear in his throat. "If you're near the door, I need you to move away so I can get it open."

_Curse doors that opened into the room, curse bathmats, curse everything… _Bobby waited at the door, his heart beating alarmingly fast against his chest. "Alex?" he asked. "Did you hear that?"

She was still breathing fast, gasping. "Yes," she managed. "I'm-" she broke off, trying to cover a moan that turned to another whimper. "I'm moving," she managed. Inside the room, she tried to maneuver herself away from the door. The pain had come on so suddenly. It rippled across her back, and her abdomen. And it was worse than before, much worse. She slid across the floor… slid? Alex lifted a hand up to look at it. Her hand was shaking, the fingers wet with blood.

"Okay," she managed. Bobby opened the door carefully so as to not hit her. He gasped at the sight that met him. She was half-sitting against the wall, panting. A bloodstain spread across the pajama pants she was wearing, on the floor, where she had touched the wall…

"Oh God, Alex," he whispered. He threw himself down next to her, the knees of his own pajama pants soaking through with blood. She looked to him, and he saw that her eyes were clouded with pain.

When she looked at him, she saw that everything about him demonstrated fear. His eyes were bright with it. And she knew it was bad, but to see the terror when he looked at her made it even more real.

"I'm going to get you to the hospital," he told her. "There's not enough room in here for me to pick you up, so I'm going to have to pull you out, okay?" he asked.

She managed a nod before the pain took over again. She started shivering as he moved to a better position. He felt a thrill of dread when he saw it, because he knew what that meant. She was going into shock…

He locked his arms around her and began to awkwardly shuffle back out of the room, still crouched, pulling her with him. She began shaking even harder, her teeth clacking together.

"Bobby," she whispered. "I think I'm going to be sick."

She lurched forward, and he shifted his weight to support her as she retched. He seized her hair and pulled it back just in time.

"It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay." He tried to reassure her even though inside he was screaming – It's not okay!

He grabbed a handful of toilet paper to wipe her mouth. She fell back against him, still shivering violently. She pulled her legs in towards herself, gasping. Small sounds escaped her as he resumed pulling her from the room, and he realized she was trying to hold back tears.

His heart clenched painfully at the sounds, but he couldn't offer any comfort. He wished so much that he could trade places with her, to save her the pain. He lowered her to the floor and pulled the blanket from their bed to wrap around her.

"I'm going to call the surveillance car, get them to warn the hospital we're coming," he told her. She didn't answer. Her eyes were squeezed shut while she continued to gasp for air, taking short shallow breaths. "Alex," he said, "you're hyperventilating. Try and take deeper breaths, baby, please."

He snatched the phone and pounded the numbers into it. "Come on," he encouraged. He lay down next to her, adding his body heat to hers. He took exaggerated deep breaths, trying to encourage her to do the same.

The unit posted outside their house answered. "Alex fell, there's a lot of blood, she's going into shock," he said in one breath. "We're heading to the nearest hospital." He hung up without waiting for a response.

Alex was still on the floor with her eyes squeezed shut, her arms wrapped around her swollen belly. She arched her back and moaned again. "Alex, you've got to try not to push right now, okay?" Bobby insisted. "Alex, do you hear me?" The baby couldn't come now. There was so much blood…

He knelt down and pushed his arms underneath of her, lifting her from the ground as he stood. "Breathe with me, honey," he repeated. She placed one hand on his shoulder, gripping as tightly as she could. Her teeth were still chattering, but by the time he belted her in the passenger seat of the SUV, her breathing had evened out.

He flew to the other side and launched himself in the driver's side, hitting his shin, elbow, and the top of his head on the way. The seat was still adjusted for her driving, but he didn't have time to waste fixing it. He shoved the mirror into a passable position, slammed the door shut, and started the vehicle.

"Cold," Alex murmured. Bobby turned the heat up to full, and tucked the blanket under her chin with one hand.

"Try and stay awake," Bobby instructed, panicked. "Open your eyes, Alex. Open them, please!"

She wrenched her eyes open and looked at him. She didn't think she had ever seen him so terrified. She wished there was some way to reassure him. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he replied. He pulled the SUV out and began weaving through traffic.

"I always loved you… I love you more than… I ever thought was possible," she continued, pausing intermediately to gasp painfully. "I just wanted you to know that."

"Alex, don't," he begged. "Don't talk like that. You're fine; you're going to be fine."

"It's true though," she said faintly, through her chattering teeth. "I think I've loved you ever since I met you."

"That's not true," Bobby reminded her. "You requested a new partner. You tried to get away from me." He was trying to make a joke, hoping to make her smile and distract her from the pain, but perhaps he was just too frightened to force the humor through.

"Maybe… I was just running from myself," she replied vaguely.

He turned to look at her, confused, but her eyes had drifted shut again. He accelerated to pass another group of cars, pulling his eyes back to the road.

"I'm… really c-cold," she repeated, still shivering. She was wrapped in a blanket and the heat was blasting. He was sweating; his shirt clung to him.

"We're almost there," he assured her. "Did you hear me, Alex? We're almost there."

"I heard," she replied. Her voice was even fainter, so he had to strain to hear it.

"Come on," he begged. "Stay awake now. Talk to me, Alex."

She forced her eyes open again and managed to look at him. It took her a moment to be able to focus on him.

"Why don't we talk about our favourite topic?" he asked. "Let's talk about the baby."

A small smile turned up at the corners of her lips. "Okay," she replied.

"What do you think?" he asked, ignoring the horn that blared from a vehicle he cut off. "Boy or girl?"

"Mom thinks it's a girl," Alex replied. "Said that… I'm carrying different…than with my nephew."

"A girl then," Bobby agreed, weaving around another car.

"What do you think?" she asked him. And at the moment, it didn't matter that they'd had this conversation many times before. She was awake, she was talking.

"I don't know," Bobby replied. "I'd be happy with either."

"Me too," she replied.

He glanced over at her again. She was deathly pale, her eyes drifting open and shut as though weighed down. He pushed his foot down on the gas pedal again.

"Maybe a boy… just like you?" she managed.

"Or a little girl, just like you?" he responded.

"Or maybe… she'll be… like both…"

"Like both of us," he finished for her.

He pulled the car up at the hospital. "We're here," he told her. "It's okay, Alex, we're here."

He flung the gear shift into park and launched himself out the door. Rushing to her door, he yanked it open and removed her seatbelt before lifting her out. "Hang on, Alex," he whispered into her hair.

He burst through the doors of the emergency room, and was glad that they didn't seem to require any explanation on his part. As soon as the triage nurse caught sight of them, she paged for a trauma team and OB/GYN. "Dr. Fuller!" Bobby called to her. "Page Dr. Fuller!"

A group of people rushed towards him pulling a gurney. Reluctant though he was to release his hold on her, he knew that he had to. He laid her down and found that people were shoving their way past him, getting between him and Alex.

Her eyes were open again, searching. "Bobby?" she asked nervously. "Bobby where are you?"

He forced his way through and seized her hand. "I'm right here," he assured her.

"Don't leave me," she said, her eyes panicked.

"I'm not leaving, Alex; I'm right here," he assured her.

He felt someone tap him smartly on the arm, and realized that they had been trying to talk to him. "You're the husband?" he demanded. "You're the baby's father?"

"Yes," Bobby replied.

"What's her name?"

"Alexandra Eames-Goren."

"What's her blood type?" the man asked briskly.

"O positive," Bobby replied.

"We need O positive blood here!" he tossed over his shoulder. "How far along is she?"

"Thirty-six weeks," Bobby replied.

"What happened?"

"She fell," Bobby replied. "She had a partial placental abruption three weeks ago and was on bed rest."

"Was there a cause for the abruption?" the man asked while one of his colleagues strategically placed wires on Alex. Someone else had already cut her shirt open.

"She was pushed down the stairs," Bobby replied.

"Trauma," the man muttered to himself. They swung into a room. "I believe we have a complete placental abruption here people, significant blood loss!" he told the room at large. "Get her prepped, and someone call the OR. She needs an immediate caesarian."

"Where's Dr. Fuller?" Bobby demanded.

"She'll meet us in the OR."

"Bobby."

There was so much sound in the room that he almost missed her saying his name. He leaned down close to her and smoothed her hair away from her face. "Yes?" he asked.

"There's something I never told you," she replied.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I… I have a… a fear of surgeries."

He looked down at her, his heart feeling like it was being ripped apart by the fear that stared back at him from the depths of her eyes. He wished so much that he could do this for her. "They have to," he told her.

She began shaking her head, pressing her lips together to keep from crying. She didn't want to appear weak. And she hated being scared. But everything had gone so wrong, and now they wanted to cut her open.

Her heart monitor began to beep faster, her heart rate climbing.

"Is there any way the baby can be delivered without a C-section?" Bobby asked.

"A caesarian is the best option here," the doctor replied briefly.

"My wife," Bobby explained, "she's afraid of surgery."

The doctor glanced at the woman's face, pinched in terror. "There's been significant blood loss and she's obviously in pain," he replied sympathetically. "It really can't wait. Try to reassure her."

Bobby turned back to Alex. "Hey," he whispered. "They're going to have to do the C-section. But it's going to be okay. It's going to be okay, Alex. You're strong, you can do this."

She gripped his hand tightly. "Okay," she replied shakily.

He held her hand and stroked her hair while the medical professionals scurried around the room, preparing for the surgery. He lifted their clenched hands up to plant a kiss on the back of hers.

"Bobby?"

"Yes, Alex?" He waited, but she didn't say anything else. "Alex?" he asked again, concerned. Her grip slackened; her hand limp in his. "Alex!" He turned to the doctor. "Something's wrong!"

At almost the same moment, the heart monitor let out a whine – an alarm. "Mom's stats are dropping!" someone called.

"Let's move people," the doctor instructed. As they began to unlock the wheels another monitor began beeping. The fetal monitor, already beeping at an alarming pace, began to increase.

"Fetus is in distress!" someone else called.

"Let's go people!" the doctor called. "Now!"

They seized the gurney and began to rush out of the room. Bobby clung to Alex's limp hand. "Alex!"

He wasn't sure if it was seconds or hours later when people were pulling him away. "That's a sterile operating room, you can't go in there."

"No," Bobby argued. "No, I said I wouldn't leave her, I said I'd be right there!"

Someone was trying to pry his hand away from hers. "No!" he cried. He was unaware of someone calling security. He was a big man – it would be difficult to get him away from the patient if he didn't want to go.

It was the doctor who stepped up to him, almost matching in height. "If you don't let go; they will die," he said simply. "The longer you delay us, the higher the risk. Is that what you want?"

It may have sounded harsh, but it was the only thing that broke through to him. "No," he repeated, but this time, the sound came out as a dry sob. "No, you have to save them." He opened his hand and felt Alex's slip out as they took her away from him.

The doctor nodded before turning to burst through the doors after everyone else, grateful that they hadn't had to wait for security to come; grateful that the man was coherent enough to understand what he was doing. It wasn't the first time an emotionally distraught family member had unintentionally delayed medical treatment because they were blind with panic.

Bobby glimpsed Dr. Fuller, fully gowned up, entering an operating suite. Bobby stood just outside the doors leading to the restricted operating area as the doors swung shut. But as they swung closed, he thought of what the doctor had said. Living without Alex…

"No," he said aloud. "No… uh, no." He moved towards the doors and banged his fists against them. "Wait!" he called. "Wait – You've got to understand! I can't live without my wife! Please! I can't live without her!"

Strong hands matched with sympathetic voices pulled him from the doors. He fell to his knees on the floor, sobbing. He noticed vaguely that he was still wearing blood-stained pajamas. He wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he could wrap them around her, and he cried.


	6. Waiting

Chapter Six – Waiting _(March 2009)_

Bobby sat numbly in a chair, waiting. At some point, he had rolled up the legs of his pajama pants. They now sat at the length of shorts, with a thick rolled up clump at the bottom. He had grown cold at some point, but refused to roll them down. They weren't rolled to cool off; they were rolled so he couldn't feel the sticky wetness of blood on his knees. The rest of the leg cushioned the blood drenched knee section. It never occurred to him how ridiculous he looked, nor would he have cared if it had.

Bobby leapt up every time someone walked into the waiting room through the operating area doors. But they were never coming to talk to him. Bobby had seen people sob with relief and devastation, feeling strangely detached. Most of the people who had been waiting when he came in had already left.

Bobby leapt to his feet again, and went over to the desk. "Excuse me," he said. "I'm waiting to hear about my wife."

"Someone will be out to speak to you as soon as they can," the woman behind the desk said. Her eyes travelled back to the computer screen in front of her.

"Isn't there some way to check how things are going?"

"Someone will be out as soon as possible," she repeated.

"But it's been so long!" he exploded, making more than a few people in the room jump.

The woman looked back up, meeting his furiously terrified gaze. "I know it seems that way," she sympathized. "But I assure you, as soon as they finish, someone will be here to talk to you."

Bobby's shoulders drooped. The waiting was becoming physically painful. His whole body was tense. Each time the door swung open, both his hope and fear skyrocketed, then plummeted when they went to talk to someone else.

Bobby flopped back into the seat he'd occupied for what felt like forever. How long had he been waiting? What time was it now? He wasn't sure. He wasn't wearing his watch. He braced his elbows on his knees, dropping his head into his hands. A moment later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to meet the sympathetic gaze of a woman who appeared to be in her eighties.

"Who are you waiting for, dear?"

Bobby hesitated, but there was only sympathy in the woman's gaze. Sympathy and worry for her own family member. "My wife," Bobby replied miserably.

She nodded, rubbing his shoulder in a comforting way. "My husband and son are in there. Car crash."

"I'm sorry," Bobby replied automatically.

"My daughter-in-law and grandson are still in the ER. A broken arm and glass embedded in the flesh are apparently not priority," she said somewhat bitterly. "I came up here to wait for my husband and son's surgeries to be finished. I was the only one to walk away with practically nothing to show for that terrible crash," she confessed.

"That's not your fault," Bobby said. The woman's guilt and pain had momentarily distracted him somewhat.

"I understand that here," she said, tapping her temple, "but not here." She laid a hand over her chest, choking up. Bobby took her other hand in his own, because it seemed like the right thing to do. "I would rather be the one in there," she said thickly, her eyes wandering to the doors leading to the operating rooms. "I would rather be the one; not my husband, not my son."

"I understand," Bobby replied fervently.

"If you don't mind me asking," the woman said, once she'd gained control of herself again, "Why does your wife need surgery?"

"Emergency C-section," Bobby replied.

"Then we're in the same situation," she said. Bobby met her gaze. In a way, she was right. Their similar circumstances had inexplicably drawn the two strangers together, both drawing comfort through shared fear. "They're removing my son's spleen. Routine, they said. Nothing to worry about."

"That's good," Bobby said cautiously.

She nodded. "Anything can happen though. And my husband… they said they need to drill a hole in his skull. To relieve pressure in his brain. We've been married for fifty-two years. What will I do if he doesn't… if they can't..."

"I know," Bobby said. "I know."

They sat clutching each other's hands for what seemed like hours before a woman in scrubs came out and walked towards them. Bobby felt the woman's hand tremble in his own, and he squeezed it reassuringly. The doctor's eyes were on her, not him. No news about Alex yet. The expression 'no news is good news' really didn't appeal to him right now.

"We just finished your son's surgery," the doctor was saying. "He's in recovery, doing well, no complications in surgery. I checked with Dr. Garret on my way, they're finishing up on your husband now; he handled the surgery very well too."

"Thank you!" she sobbed. "Oh thank you, thank you!" She spontaneously turned and hugged the man she was sitting next to, startling Bobby. The doctor continued to talk, but Bobby wasn't paying attention to what she was saying. The woman released him and jumped up, giving the impression of youth despite her obvious age.

"I hope you get good news too," she said to Bobby, who nodded. Just as their circumstances had drawn them together, they now added a distance between them. Her family was going to be fine. Bobby was still waiting. "Good luck," she said. And then she was gone. Bobby realised he didn't even know her name.

His heel began to bounce with worry and impatience. What was taking so long? They'd had time to drill into a man's head, but not deliver a baby by caesarian section? It seemed like the latter shouldn't take so much longer than the former. And surely they would have had to do some sort of test, some sort of brain scan, to determine that he needed surgery to relieve the pressure? Besides, Bobby been waiting for quite a time before the woman had even come up. Of course, he reasoned, she might have been in the ER for a while before they'd let her come up.

Still, as Bobby looked around the room again, he saw that only one person was still in the room who had been there when he'd arrived. What were the odds that all the other emergency surgeries were faster than Alex's? Some people had even come and left again in the time he'd been waiting. What was going on?

Bobby jumped up again to demand that someone tell him something when he was distracted by a voice over the intercom declaring a code blue in the first floor D-wing staff lounge. Staff lounge? Had a patient wandered in and had a heart attack?

The woman at the desk looked confused too. She knew something that Bobby didn't – it required hospital ID card access to enter the staff lounge. In fact, the D wing of the first floor staff lounge only ever had surgical staff in it – since surgeons never wanted to be far from the operating room just in case, while cleaning staff and orderlies tended to go to the cafeteria.

A code team went flying through the waiting room, dragging the crash cart with them. There was one in each of the operating rooms, but not near the staff lounge. They were coming from the recovery room, bursting through the waiting room on their way.

There was one surgeon in his sixties, but the rest were mostly younger, although stress and other risk factors could cause an earlier heart attack in any of the doctors or nurses. Despite protocol, the woman behind the desk got up to check who it was. Most of the people in the room didn't even blink, too caught up in their own misery.

She went to the staff lounge, standing just outside, trying to peek through the people to see who it was on the floor. "Only those necessary for the code, Cheryl," someone barked irritably as he made his way by.

"Do you know who it is?" Cheryl asked.

The surgeon had finished his shift, and had stopped in to see if they needed his help for the code. He stepped away from the doorway in case someone needed in or out as the team tried to revive the scrub-clad figure on the floor. "It's Heather," he replied dispiritedly.

"But she's so young!" Cheryl exclaimed.

The other doctor shrugged heavily. "It doesn't always matter," he said tiredly. "Go back to your post, Cheryl." He dropped a hand on her shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture before turning and going on his way. The woman settled back at her desk, wishing it wasn't inappropriate to wait and hear the outcome of the code. She was almost immediately hounded by the same man from earlier appearing at the desk looking nearly insane with anxiety.

"What is going on?" he demanded fiercely. "I've been waiting for hours! What could have happened to make a C-section take so long?"

Cheryl felt her heart sink at the description of the surgery. "Do you know who the surgeon was?" she asked worriedly.

"Dr. Fuller," Bobby replied quickly. Finally, someone was going to do something!

She picked up the phone, dialing a number with a worried look on her face. "What is it?" Bobby demanded. "Hey! What's going on? Who are you calling?" Cheryl made a shushing gesture, and Bobby complied, heart racing.

"Hi Faye," she said. "It's Cheryl. Do you know who the resident with Dr. Fuller is? I know, but I've got a man here waiting for news about his wife. Yeah, I guess she didn't get to it before… You heard? Oh, it's awful. Okay, thanks hun." She hung up. "I'm going to page Dr. Jefferies for you," she said to Bobby. "He'll be able to answer your questions."

"What about Dr. Fuller?" Bobby demanded. "Where is she?" He had liked the doctor when he first met her, and he especially appreciated her honesty. And in these uncertain circumstances, he wanted someone familiar.

"Dr. Jefferies will tell you everything you need to know," Cheryl told him.

"What's awful?" Bobby asked suspiciously. "Why can't Dr. Fuller come?"

Despite his worry, Bobby's keen detective mind began to connect the pieces. The crash team running by, the code in the first floor staff lounge, Cheryl's expression, the abnormally long wait, Dr. Fuller's suspicious absence…"

Bobby turned and took off running. "Sir!" Cheryl called after him. "Where are you going? There's no running!" she called hopelessly after his fleeing figure.

Bobby slid to halt outside the open staff lounge door; in time to see the team packing up from their unsuccessful endeavor. He had to grip the doorframe to prevent from falling as his knees buckled. The woman lying dead on the floor was Dr. Fuller.


	7. Baby Girl Goren

Chapter Seven – Baby Girl Goren _(March 2009)_

_Earlier That Night_

Alex's eyes opened. For a moment, she had no idea what was going on. Then it all started creeping back in. "Bobby?" she asked weakly.

"It's okay, Alexandra," a voice said. "We're about to do the C-section. You try and relax."

Relax? How could she possibly relax? They were about to cut into her! She looked down, sick with terror, but there was a screen blocking her view. The lights above her seemed to be spinning. "Bobby," she murmured. A moment later, she slipped back into unconsciousness.

Dr. Fuller was good at what she did. She went through the motions quickly and carefully, lifting the tiny form out from its mother's womb. Alex's eyes opened again, just in time to see the woman turning to pass something to another person out of her view.

"My baby," she said, but so softly that no one heard. Why wasn't the baby crying? Babies should cry when they're born. She tried to ask someone why the baby wasn't crying, but she felt the darkness closing in on her mind again. She tried to fight it, but it overtook her just as the infant let out a sound that could be classified as a wail - barely.

"Transfer the infant to the NICU," Dr. Fuller instructed. The baby was alive. She was glad she had good news for her patient. If she lived.

* * *

Dr. Fuller pulled off her scrub cap, tired but pleased. She wished all her cases could turn out so positively. She would clean up, and then go straight out to speak to her patient's husband.

"Excuse me?" a voice asked. Dr. Fuller turned to face the man, eyes glancing at what he held out. "We need to speak privately."

"Alright," she agreed. "But could we make it quick? I'd like to get back out to speak to my patient's family." She swiped her ID card, pushing open the door to the empty staff lounge.

* * *

"This is a restricted area," the hospital's medical examiner's assistant informed the two people.

"We're from Jameson and Sons Funeral Home," one of them explained. "We're here to pick up," he glanced down at the clipboard he held, "Mrs. Anne Ferguson."

"Ferguson," the assistant muttered, checking his own file. "Family declined autopsy. There should be a release here… got it. You have the proper documentation?"

The funeral home employee handed over the papers. They were examined, and then the assistant nodded. "She's in the fridge, number 12. Do you mind grabbing her yourself? I've got a stiff to pick up from the fifth floor."

The two nodded, and made their way past the assistant. After picking up the body, the assistant made his way back down to the morgue, only to meet the narrowed gaze of the medical examiner. "What?" he asked irritably.

The ME's frown deepened at this response. "Where's the body from the first floor?"

"The first floor?" his assistant echoed. "I haven't been to the first floor all day."

If possible, the ME's gaze hardened even more. He handed his assistant the documentation wordlessly. The assistant looked it over. "Eames-Goren?" he asked. "No, I'd remember that name. I'm sure I haven't picked up any hyphenated names."

"Do you see this?" the ME asked sarcastically, pointing. "That confirms that she should be here in the morgue, number 11."

"Maybe she got put in the wrong drawer."

"I checked them all," the ME countered.

"Well, maybe there's some other mistake. I swear I didn't bring her down. Here, look – she was Dr. Fuller's patient. That woman's all about patient care, maybe that includes a personal delivery." The assistant started to chuckle at his own joke, but broke off at the less than impressed expression on his mentor's face.

"Find out," the ME instructed. "Go find Dr. Fuller and ask her. I'm going to get out Mrs. Ferguson; the people from the funeral home should be coming to get her soon."

"They were already here," the assistant replied.

"I seriously doubt it, since Mrs. Ferguson is still here," the ME countered.

"Uh oh," the assistant said nervously.

"What is it?" the ME asked.

"I think I know what happened to the missing stiff." The ME frowned, but gestured for the assistant to continue. The assistant picked up the forms, confirming the pick-up of the body. "It seems the funeral home guys took the wrong corpse."

"What?" the ME thundered. "Did you not supervise?"

"I had to pick up the body from the fifth floor!" the assistant exclaimed defensively. "I told them which drawer she was in; they must have grabbed the wrong one!"

The ME growled in frustration. "Call them," he instructed abruptly. "Fix this – preferably before the families find out about the mix up. If someone's head is going on a platter, you can bet I'll give them yours!"

The ME continued to mutter curses until his assistant came back. "Well?" he asked dangerously. "Are they coming back?"

"There was an accident," the assistant replied, no trace of humor left on his pale face.

"More like carelessness on everyone's part," the ME muttered. "What did they say?"

"No, you misunderstand me," the assistant replied. "The funeral home just got a report of a traffic accident involving the funeral home's vehicle."

"Survivors?"

"No."

The ME's own face turned ashen. "I have to contact the authorities and let them know we need to recover the body they had with them."

"That's going to be a problem," the assistant said. "They hit a gas truck. There's not going to be anything left to recover."

* * *

"Mr. Goren, I'm Dr. Jefferies," the man said. "I was in the OR with Dr. Fuller this afternoon."

The man looked both sad and nervous. Sad for Dr. Fuller, Bobby presumed. He was nervous perhaps because he hadn't talked to nearly as many families so early in his career. "I'm sorry about the doctor," Bobby said, because it was the right thing to do, and he wasn't sure he'd remember to say something later.

Dr. Jefferies nodded in response. "How's Alex?" Bobby asked hurriedly, standing.

"Perhaps you should sit back down," Dr. Jefferies suggested gently.

"No, I think I'd rather stand," Bobby replied, barely contained panic gnawing at his insides.

"Mr. Goren, we did everything we could," Jefferies began hesitantly. "But there was excessive blood loss."

"What are you saying?" Bobby demanded, though he already knew.

"I'm so sorry," Jefferies said, "But your wife didn't make it. She died in the operating room."

Bobby stumbled back over to the chair as numbness spread from his feet up. He fell down heavily into the chair, disbelieving. "No," he said out loud.

"I'm sorry," Jefferies repeated. He truly was. This was something he didn't want to do. He allowed a small time of silence for the man to process this information before continuing, "You have a daughter. Five pounds, six ounces. She's been transferred to the NICU; neonatal intensive care unit."

Bobby looked up. He hadn't even thought about that. If Alex had died from blood loss, he hadn't even suspected that they had managed to save the baby…

"The baby's okay?" he asked.

"She was born a few weeks early, so she's smaller than usual, but so far her lung development appears to be normal. We administered a steroid to help her lungs, and we want to monitor her to be sure. But yes, she's okay."

"The baby's okay," Bobby repeated numbly. "But Alex is… dead."

Jefferies nodded, not sure what to say. This was probably the worst part of being a doctor. The man was still standing, an expression of shock and disbelief on his face. Grief began settling in bit by bit as he processed what Jefferies had said. "Is there someone you can call?" the doctor asked. Bobby didn't answer. He hardly heard what the other man had said. Jefferies tried a different approach. "I could take you to see your daughter, as soon as you're ready."

That broke through. For a split second, he recoiled at the idea. Why should he want to see the one who had caused Alex's death? Then he pushed the thought away angrily. It wasn't the baby's fault. It was Boyd's. He was the one who had caused the abruption, putting her at risk. Bobby stood up as rage momentarily overtook him. Then he stopped. One thing at a time; he could only handle one thing at a time. Bobby pushed the grief and rage into a corner of his mind to deal with later. It was still present, still painful, but he needed to focus. Did he want to see the baby? "Yes," he said out loud.

Jefferies nodded, and led him to the elevator. He had tensed at the expression on the man's face. Rage had twisted Bobby's features nearly beyond recognition for a moment, startling the doctor. But the man only seemed to be filled only with grief now.

He followed the doctor all the way to the NICU in a state of numbed disbelief. Any time he thought of Alex, he pushed it away, biting his tongue and clenching his fists. He couldn't think about her right now. It was too painful. He wasn't sure he'd be able to keep control if he allowed himself to think of her.

Jefferies passed Bobby over to one of the nurses from the NICU and made an abrupt departure. Bobby hardly noticed. He went from following one scrub-clad figure to another, still numb. The nurse helped him into a paper gown, speaking to him all along. Bobby didn't even bother to listen to the words. He couldn't focus. But her tone was one of comfort.

The nurse had seen the numb disbelief characteristic of the beginning stage of grief before. She told him about how strong the baby was, what a fighter his daughter was. She told him how she had even managed to cry, which was an accomplishment for a premature baby with immature lungs. She wasn't sure he even heard. She handed him a box of gloves, but he didn't seem to register. She pulled a pair out and handed them to him. "You need to wear a gown and gloves to go into the NICU," she said firmly. "Put these on, Mr. Goren," she said, firmly and clearly, placing them into his hand.

He slipped them on. "Are you ready to meet you daughter, Mr. Goren?" she asked. "Mr. Goren?" she repeated. She wasn't taking him in there until she got an answer.

"Yes," he answered. He followed the woman over to a plastic bassinet. A pink card was on the end, stating: Baby Girl Goren. _She needs a name_, he thought. Then he peered into the bassinet at the tiny human inside.

It took him a moment to identify what he felt as he looked down at his daughter for the first time. _I love her_, he realized. Just like that. A small part of him had been worried about that for many months now. There had been worries about being able to care for a child properly, of course. But just a tiny part of him had also wondered if he would be able to love the child enough. He had read about parents bonding with their children, but for all his intellect, he couldn't prepare for a purely emotional experience. It just seemed so sudden. Simply looking at the baby had been enough.

He loved her, he needed to protect and care for her. The tiny infant in the bassinet had captured his heart. And though he wouldn't realize it until later, she had also prevented the grief from consuming him.


	8. A Crushing Blow

Chapter Eight – A Crushing Blow _(March 2009)_

Alex opened her eyes. She was in an unfamiliar room; a hospital room. She hardly noticed the figure leave the room to go and get someone. The next thing she knew, two men were standing by her bed.

"US Marshalls," the first one said. They held up their badges.

"Marshalls?" she asked. "What… why are you here?"

"We were brought in when inmate Boyd escaped," the first one replied.

"Boyd escaped?" Alex asked.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Until a time when he can be recaptured, you are to remain in protective custody."

"Witness protection?" Alex echoed blankly. "But I didn't witness anything. I want to go home…Where's Bobby?" she asked suddenly. "Where's my baby?"

The two men exchanged glances. "I'm sorry ma'am," the first man said stiffly. "But the infant was stillborn."

_Why isn't my baby crying? _Alex pressed a fist against her lips to prevent any sound from escaping. Tears filled her eyes. The two men looked away, looking uncomfortable and… _bored_, but she didn't care what they thought of her. Assholes. She took a steadying breath. "And Bobby?"

"Ma'am, it appears that when inmate Boyd escaped, he came looking for you."

"I don't care about Boyd," she snarled. "I asked where Bobby was."

"Instead of finding you, he found your husband," the first explained bluntly.

"What?" she asked. "Are you saying… that he's… not coming?"

"He won't be coming," the first confirmed.

"Get _out_," she hissed.

"Ma'am-"

"GET OUT!" she screamed.

The two willingly fled her room. "I hate when they get like that," the first man said to his quiet partner. The silent one nodded. Outside of the woman's range of hearing, they spoke quietly to each other, no one else hearing.

"Why is it that we're telling her they're dead?" the first asked.

"It's easier to hide her then all of them," the quieter one replied.

"Seems inhumane," the first said unconcernedly.

The other shrugged. "It's cheaper too. Do you know how much babies cost? He gets to keep the kid, she gets to keep her life… seems fine to me."

"Money's that tight?" The other shrugged again. "I guess," the first said.

The two walked away, leaving the hospital staff to deal with the grief-stricken woman. Their job was done.

The quieter man walked just a step behind the other man, so no one saw his face. A small smile crept upon his features. He was glad that he had ended up with this particular partner. It made everything much easier. Emotions were not something someone with an antisocial personality could understand… but money? The explanation was accepted easily, since the other man couldn't care less.

* * *

"Remind me why I'm not just supposed to kill her?"

"I said I would destroy her. Not kill."

"Dead seems pretty destroyed to me."

"This just shows how little you know. People fear death, yes, but the end of life involves the end of fear. It would be so much better, don't you think, to take everything away? She might even finish the job for us. Then we could never be prosecuted for her death. And she would be finished then."

"I thought you wanted to destroy, not kill?"

"Taking one's own life signifies the end of hope, the end of the will to live. Someone's spirit must be crushed so completely that it overcomes instinct – the drive to go on, to live. I think that would count as pretty destroyed."

"Then why did you want the other one dead? Why not kill his fiancée instead?"

"Killing one instills fear in the other. I enjoy killing, but fear… It's delicious."

"Right… So it didn't matter which one was killed, then?"

"This was better. He was of no consequence, in the end."

"They both needed to be punished."

"Yes."

"Then why was he of no consequence?"

"He lost his life – the way of destruction for him. They must lose everything."

* * *

Bobby's cell phone had started ringing. Since it was a hospital, he knew better than to answer in the NICU. He reluctantly left his tiny daughter's bassinet, and made his way outside. People glared at him on his way by, with the cell phone ringing shrilly, but he didn't really care. The caller was very insistent, hanging up only to call immediately back.

When he reached the front doors and made his way outside, he answered.

"Bobby?" the voice asked. For a split second, Bobby thought it was Alex. Then he realized it was her mother. "Bobby, I stopped by the apartment with the blankets I'd promised, and no one is here! Did Alex go into labour? Why didn't you call me? You were supposed to call!"

"There wasn't any time," Bobby replied tonelessly.

"Oh, well," she said, not impressed, but knowing that something was wrong. "Well, you should have called when you got to the hospital! I wanted to be there. Alex wanted me to be there. I suppose if you've answered, it's all over then, is it?"

"It's over," Bobby repeated.

"Humph," she said disapprovingly. "How's she doing?"

Bobby didn't answer. He thought this wasn't the type of news to deliver over the phone, but his usually keen mind was still in a state of numbness, and he wasn't sure how to steer the conversation in the proper direction.

"Bobby? Are you there?"

"Yes," he replied.

"What hospital are you at?" she asked. "I want to come. I need to see my daughter." Her words were coming more quickly, in the fashion of someone who knows something is wrong, but unrealistically hopes that if they keep talking they won't have their fears confirmed. "I want to meet my grandchild."

Bobby latched onto that. "You were right," he said. "It's a girl."

Penny made a noise of delight on the other end of the line. "So everything is okay?" she asked, worried about the tone of Bobby's voice.

"Baby's in the NICU," Bobby answered. "They think she'll be fine."

"Good, that's good," Penny said.

"Right," Bobby agreed.

"So, what hospital?" Penny asked again. "I want to see them." Bobby told her, careful not to correct her assumption, but also careful to not out rightly lie. "Okay, thanks," Penny said quickly. "Tell Alex I'm on my way, alright?" she asked hopefully.

"I'll meet you by the front doors," Bobby answered.

"No, no, stay with Alex," Penny countered, the keen edge of fear in her tone. "I'll find my own way."

"I'll see you when you get here."

"Everything's okay, isn't it?" Penny asked worriedly, finally giving up on indirectly trying finding out what she wanted to know.

"Let's talk when you get here," Bobby said instead. "Drive carefully."

Penny didn't answer. She simply hung up, clinging to the hope that Bobby was simply in a state of shock at the idea of being a new parent. Bobby knew that she suspected, but hoped that not knowing for sure would keep her safe driving over. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, trying not to think, trying not to feel.

* * *

"Penny," Bobby greeted.

"Bobby, what is going on?" she demanded, not even bothering with pleasantries.

"Penny, come over here," he said, trying to put a variance into his voice. It sounded the same way he felt. Hollow, expressionless, empty. Dead. "Sit down."

"No," she insisted, her voice breaking at the end. "First you need to tell me what's going on."

Bobby released the breath he had been holding in a long sigh. There was no avoiding it any more. The words would leave his mouth, the truth of the matter no longer deniable one he'd spoken them out loud, once someone else knew. Then it would be real.

How to phrase it correctly? He had delivered this kind of news to family members many times before. But professional detachment seemed improper and likely beyond him at this moment anyway. How to put it gently? Impossible. This news would be a crushing blow no matter what; perhaps it even seemed right to simply state it as thus.

"Alex is dead."

There was a long drawn out silence. Such a cruel knowledge, the death of a child, coming without preamble, taking her by surprise, the explanation over in three words, so fast she felt as though she might have missed it.

"What?"

"They did everything they could," Bobby explained, repeating the doctor's exact words as though using another's words would make what he was saying easier to bear. "But there was excessive blood loss."

"What are you saying?" she demanded, her voice breaking.

"I'm sorry," Bobby said automatically.

His mother-in-law collapse into his arms, and Bobby supported her while staring straight ahead. People moved around the two of them, used to this display of grief or possibly caught up in their own.

* * *

Bobby stood next to the baby's crib, looking down. The fact that Alex wasn't there cut to the core of him like a white-hot knife. He had told them, they didn't know Alex like he did. She had survived so much. She had been in many dangerous situations. Even now, there was a psychopath intending to hunt her down and kill her. How could she have survived all that, only to die in a situation that millions of women went through with no problem?

She had already delivered another baby without complications, when her nephew was born. How could she have died having a baby? It didn't make any sense. He couldn't accept it. How could she survive dangerous situations with hardened criminals, only to die giving birth?

The baby shifted, bringing Bobby's attention back to the small form in the crib. This baby was all he had left now. This baby was who Alex had died for. He had resented that fact only until his eyes fell onto the baby for the first time. He had felt nothing but love and protectiveness from the first moment he held his child in his arms. No, he didn't blame the baby. This baby was now his entire world.

Deciding that standing by the crib was not close enough, he reached in to pick the baby up. Only cradling the tiny infant against his chest, with their beating hearts separated only by flesh, bone, and flimsy fabric, could he have the baby close enough.

Bobby settled into the rocking chair in the corner of the room, cradling his infant daughter in his arms. "Hello, baby girl," he whispered to her. _Baby Girl Goren_. She needed a name. But all of the names he and Alex had discussed… how did he pick one without her?

She had wanted to see the baby before picking a name. And now she never would meet their daughter. Bobby glanced around the room, set up just as he had left it. He recalled her joking about how it was bad luck to have too much ready before the baby was born.

_Are you saying it's my fault if we have bad luck? _He had been joking then. But he felt the guilt wash over him all the same. There must have been something he could have done to avoid this. Something he could have done to prevent Alex's death. He cuddled the tiny infant closer. He vowed that he would do his best by her. He would never let anything happen to her.


	9. Separation Anxiety

Chapter Nine – Separation Anxiety _(March-June 2009)_

_March 2009_

Bobby had fashioned a sling to carry the baby around in. He hated to set her down; hated to be separated from her even by the distance of her cradle to the living room. He had been warned about babies getting too used to being held and then not sleeping on their own anymore, but he had brushed it aside. Why should he want her separated from him, ever?

He only ever settled her into the cradle at night, for the few hours he slept. Even then, the cradle Penny had brought in order to avoid dragging the larger crib into the bedroom remained pressed right against his side of the bed, where one hand could easily reach in and comfort her if she cried.

Currently, his mother-in-law was asleep on the couch. Bobby trailed a blanket over her, tucking it in around her. Penny had basically moved into the apartment in the last three days since the baby had come home. Bobby was grateful. After the baby had been released from the hospital, Bobby had brought her home, only to realize that he had nothing to feed her with. Having virtually no knowledge of what formula to get, and his brain already both sleep-deprived and grief-numbed, he had turned up on Penny's doorstep. "Help," he had begged. And she had. Bobby thought that helping with the baby might have been therapeutic for her as well.

But now he thought he had enough of a handle on what to do that he could manage on his own. In any case, Penny was clearly exhausted. Learning what he needed to take care of the baby had been keeping him from letting go completely and sinking into his grief. Only at night, when the baby was sleeping and he was trying to, did his entire being become consumed with Alex's loss.

One arm cradling the infant in spite of the makeshift sling, the other hand reached for the documents he had taken home from the hospital. Among them was his infant daughter's birth certificate.

Before leaving the hospital, they had wanted him to fill out all the necessary paperwork. He could hardly leave the baby nameless.

_His eyes were fixed on the card still attached to the infant's bassinet. Baby Girl Goren. "She needs a name," one of the nurses had said. Bobby knew that. But what should he call her? How could he choose a name for their baby with Alex missing?_

_ "What names were you thinking of?"_

_ Bobby looked up to meet the kind, dark eyes. "Alex," he began, about to explain how she had wanted to see the baby first. But his throat closed up, making speaking difficult. _

_ "Alexandra?" she asked. _

_ He nodded in confirmation. _

_ "Is that the name you've decided on?" she asked. _

_ Bobby nodded again. Why not? Why not give her the name of the person he wanted here now more than any other? He could hardly think straight anyway._

* * *

_April 2009_

"Dude, I'm going to be honest, this is a little bit awkward."

"What is?" Bobby asked, taking the diaper bag back from his friend and pulling it carefully on to his shoulder so that it wouldn't swing forward and jostle Alexandra in the infant carrier.

"Well," Lewis replied, "People might think we're… you know… a couple."

Bobby raised his eyebrows. "You don't think there's any other reason for two men and a baby to be walking through Central Park together?" he asked.

"Look, I don't want to be offensive or anything," Lewis said awkwardly.

"No?" Bobby returned. "You sure you don't want to hold hands or anything?" At the shocked look on his friend's face, Bobby chuckled softly.

"You're not uncomfortable with it?" Lewis asked.

"No," Bobby replied honestly. "I really don't care what anyone thinks. Besides, you can just start flirting with the nannies when we get to the park, and then everything will be clear."

Lewis grinned, more to do with the fact that Bobby had actually come out of his misery enough to tease him than for any other reason. The baby made a small gurgling sound, and the two men were instantly focussed on her, both of them smiling adoringly at the tiny human who'd captured their hearts.

"Is my little sweetheart awake?" Lewis asked in a sing-song voice. The baby's eyes opened wide, searching for the face belonging to the familiar voice. "She is!" Lewis squawked. "There's my precious angel!"

"You're probably not helping your case here," Bobby said, in reference to Lewis practically hanging off his arm to get a good view of his goddaughter.

"People can think what they want," Lewis replied, grinning. Neither man had taken their eyes off of the baby. "Little Alex is too cute for words."

Lewis's casual statement had a remarkable effect on Bobby, who turned his head away to hide his expression. "Alexandra," he corrected, lengthening his stride.

Something he hadn't anticipated when he had simply agreed to giving the name Alexandra to his daughter was how quickly just hearing those two syllables could pull him back into his grief. _Alex_… and just like that, he was awash in memories that hit him like a speeding train.

The entire Eames family had already announced that the newest addition to the family looked just like her mother. Bobby had seen Alex's baby pictures in John and Penny's house, and could see the remarkable resemblance himself. But he wanted to learn to love this infant for herself, not just for who her mother had been. He didn't yet realize that he already did.

"Bobby," Lewis said, jogging to catch up to his friend with the longer legs. Bobby's mind was pulled back to the present. "No one's ever going to call her by her full name," Lewis said gently. "It's kind of a mouthful."

Bobby ignored him, settling down onto a park bench and dumping the diaper bag to the ground. He took a deep, steadying breath. "Do you want to hold her?"

"Sure," Lewis replied, taking Alexandra from her father's arms. He knew Bobby was trying to distract him, but he let it slide. "Hello, darling," he said, grinning at the infant.

Bobby watched his friend rock his daughter, talking to her all the while in a high-pitched excited voice for a short while before Bobby wordlessly held his arms out. Lewis quickly handed the baby back. Bobby was nothing if not completely devoted to and rather over-protective of his child. He could feel his nerves beginning to fray after having his daughter away for more than five minutes – less, if he couldn't see her either.

"Are you going back to work soon?" Lewis asked.

After satisfying himself for the hundredth time that morning that Alexandra was okay, Bobby looked back up at Lewis. "I suppose," he replied.

It was probably the most unenthusiastic response Bobby had ever given to a question about work. He loved his job. But returning to work meant facing memories of Alex and everything that had happened in the past few months. More than that – it meant leaving the baby for the entire day.

"The captain said I could take as much time as I need," Bobby hedged, not bothering to add that the captain was probably relieved to have Bobby out of his hair for the time being.

"Yeah, but I know you," Lewis said, hoping to bring a spark back into his friend's eyes. "You need to be solving some kind of mystery. You can't be away from work for too long – it makes you stir-crazy."

"The baby needs me," Bobby said stubbornly.

"She'll always need you," Lewis returned. "You can't just never go back to work."

Bobby sighed heavily, grief seeming to settle on his shoulders and weigh him down. "I suppose," he said for the second time.

"Well," Lewis added guiltily, "No need to worry about that yet."

They were quiet for a time, before a toddler ran head-long into Lewis's leg, causing the child's nanny to apologize profusely and presenting Lewis with the opportunity to chat her up.

Bobby looked on with a hint of amusement for a short time before returning his attention to the baby. He jumped as a woman flopped down on the bench next to him, pulling a young boy into her lap and tying one of his shoelaces before he launched himself out of her arms towards the slide.

"Phew, he can be a handful," she laughed. Bobby offered a smile before returning his gaze to his daughter.

The woman followed his gaze, smiling as she saw the baby. "What a cutie!" she gushed. "What's her name?"

"Alexandra," he replied.

The woman smiled. "Hello there, Alexandra," she cooed. "Hello, little Lexie." She jumped up suddenly, calling after the boy whose laces she had just tied who was attempting to climb up the slide and was about to be mowed down by a larger boy.

"That's not such a mouthful, is it?" he murmured. "Lexie," he said, testing the name. "Lexie."

* * *

_May 2009_

Bobby was eating dinner with John and Penny. They insisted on having him and Lexie over at least once every two weeks, and would likely rather have them over more often if they had their way. Bobby and the baby had become a special charge of Alex's parents. But that was soon going to change.

"I'm going to have to start interviewing nannies," Bobby said, more thinking aloud than anything.

"You'll do no such thing!" Penny said, outraged.

"I've got to," Bobby said, surprised by her reaction. "I'll have to go back to work soon, and I can't take Lexie with me."

Penny and John exchanged glances, communicating silently. "You'll leave her with us," Penny said, her tone inviting no arguments.

"Oh," Bobby said, surprised. The thought hadn't even occurred to him. He had never really had anyone to rely on before. "Well, I work five days a week, sometimes more, if I need to for a case. I can't ask you to take care of her that often."

"You're not asking," John responded. "We're offering. In fact, I think my wife might consider it an insult if you do end up hiring a nanny," he said, amused.

"We've raised three of our own children, and helped out with the grandkids plenty," Penny informed him quickly. "She'll be fine with us. Won't you, Lexie?" she asked her granddaughter in a sing-song voice.

"Well," Bobby hedged, "I really don't want to put any extra pressure one you."

"In what way is getting to see my granddaughter almost every day an extra pressure?" Penny demanded. "I think it's the perfect solution, don't you?" she asked her husband.

"I wouldn't argue even if I didn't agree," John replied mischievously.

"Oh, you," Penny snapped, swatting his arm. The obvious fondness in her gaze belied her tone. She got up and lifted Lexie into her arms smiling. "Well, I guess it's all settled then."

Bobby also got up and took his daughter back from Penny. While her enthusiasm was appreciated, he wanted to be sure that she understood that he was quite capable of looking after Lexie now. Still, he appreciated their offer, and couldn't deny that it took a weight off of his mind.

* * *

_June 2009_

Bobby circled around for the third time. "You're sure you've got everything?" he asked.

"We're sure," Penny replied.

"You've got my cell phone number and the line in MCS, just in case?" he repeated.

"Yes, we do," John confirmed.

"I can't see why I wouldn't answer, but you have both the captain's line and Lewis's too?"

"Yes," Penny agreed.

"And the number for the GP? But I want you to call me too if she gets sick," he instructed.

"Yes, Bobby, we've been over this," Penny reminded him.

"I just want to make sure," he said.

"Of course," Penny agreed, hiding her exasperation for the sake of his understandable worries.

"I'll call at lunch," Bobby reminded them. "And if you need me to come home then for any reason, I'll be back. I already talked to the captain and he said I could start with a half day if I need to."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Penny said. When it looked like he was going to add something else, she began ushering him to the door, saying pointedly, "We'll talk to you at lunch Bobby. Goodbye."

Bobby left, taking a deep breath and began walking away. He had only been gone for about five minutes before he was back, banging on the front door.

"Bobby?" Penny asked when she answered.

"No, I've changed my mind," he said quickly. "I'm not going back yet, Lexie's really too young and I just really can't," he continued, all in one breath. He reached out to take the baby back from her, and Penny released her hold, if only to calm his nerves.

"Bobby," she said gently, "It's going to be hard to go back to work and be away from Lexie. But you're going to have to do it," she added. "I know it's hard. And she is very young. But she's well cared for here, and you'll be back before you know it."

Calmed by the weight of his daughter in his arms, Bobby considered her words. Then he considered the thought of facing everyone's awkward avoidance or offers of condolences, and he shuddered. But if he wanted to keep his job, he would have to face it at some point.

Taking another deep breath, and holding Lexie close for another moment, he composed himself. He handed the baby back to Penny. "I'll talk to you at noon," he said.

Penny smiled encouragingly. "Yes," she agreed. She stood in the doorway with the baby until he was out of sight. "Your Daddy has a bad case of separation anxiety," she told the infant. "Worse than you do!" Lexie had handled being passed around very well, not crying out at all. Then again, she was a remarkably content baby most of the time. "I don't blame him though," Penny continued her monologue. "I miss your Mommy too."


	10. Marion

Chapter Ten – Marion

_June, 2009_

Alex sat alone in the dark and silence. She left the house to go to work, because she had to, but then she came immediately home. The past months were more difficult than she could have ever imagined.

The cover story was that Marion Jones had been in a car crash that killed her husband, and had since moved away to escape the painful memories. Marion had no siblings, and her parents had died. Alex shuddered at the thought. Her parents were alive and well. Would she ever see them again?

And then, of course, there was the loss of Bobby. How could he be gone? It had been so sudden. One moment she had been having an emergency C-section, the next, she had woken up in a hospital far away and been told that not only was her baby stillborn, but Bobby had been killed.

For the most part, Alex kept to herself. She didn't communicate with the other people at work any more often than she had to. She worked as a receptionist for a law firm, which was not something she particularly liked, but wasn't something that she detested either. Not that it really mattered; she didn't take pleasure in anything since the move. Since the move – her own way of avoiding thoughts like _since he died. _

There was a man who worked for Fed-ex who delivered to the law firm fairly regularly who tried to talk to her. Tom, she recalled. He had inquired after her family last time she saw him, and she had simply replied shortly with, "My husband is dead."

She almost felt guilty at the way he had paled and stuttered out an apology. Then, to her great surprise, he had told her that he had recently lost his partner of five years. It was her turn to try and offer an apology. After that awkwardness was over, he had told her about a grief support group that he attended. "Come if you ever want to talk," he'd offered.

She pulled the folded piece of paper on which he'd scribbled out the time and location of the group. She had leaned on a friend after Joe died, but here she had no one. Maybe it would help to go. She could try it once, and then she could always leave and not go back.

* * *

_August 2009_

"I still miss Sam every day," Tom said. "I know it's been six months, but there's not a day that passes that I don't think of that loss. Not only to me, but for Lucas."

In the month since Alex had started coming to the group, which met once a week, she had learned that Tom and Sam had a son. The boy was about a year old now, and Alex had seen the pictures that Tom was eager to show off proudly to anyone who expressed an interest.

The group was nodding in understanding to Tom's words. They all could identify with the feeling.

"It must have been hard to lose Sam so suddenly like that," a woman named Trisha sympathized.

"It's hard to lose someone slowly too," an older man said.

Trisha nodded in agreement, and the man began to describe the helplessness he'd felt watching his wife of forty-five years succumb to kidney disease. Then Trisha added how she could identify with the helplessness of watching a relative die, as she had with her sister's cancer.

"I always felt guilty that she was sick and I was healthy," Trisha continued.

"There's nothing you could have done," another woman offered in an attempt at comforting her.

"I know that, but I still felt terrible for being healthy when she was dying."

Alex nodded. "I felt the same way when my husband died."

The eyes of the group turned to her. It was the first time she had spoken up since introducing herself and giving a brief description of what brought her there.

"You couldn't control what happened either," Tom was quick to put in.

"I can't help but think how it was supposed to be me," Alex expressed, clenching her hands.

"You can't help that the other car pulled into your lane," Tom said earnestly. For a moment, Alex was confused, before she remembered her cover story. She felt more like herself with Tom than anyone else, and had temporarily forgotten that she was Marion Jones since the move. She would have to be careful with remembering her cover story. But how could anyone in the group know that it was much more complicated than a car crash? Boyd really had been after her – it really was her fault that Bobby was killed.

She fell silent, staring into her lap until she could regain control. "It's natural to feel some survivor's guilt, Marion," the group facilitator said, looking to her but really addressing this statement to the group at large. "With time, you'll all come to realize that your loved one's death wasn't you fault."

Alex was highly doubtful of that. But still she knew that it was too late to do anything about it now. Bobby was gone.

* * *

_September 2009_

Alex woke up to Lucas blowing a raspberry in her face. She had been dropping Tom off after group for a few weeks now, to save him the trouble of taking public transit, and he had invited her in last night. They had ended up talking late into the night, and so Tom had asked her to stay.

According to him, the baby had recently started trying to climb out of his crib, so he had removed one of the sides, thinking that a drop to the floor from that level would be safer than if he ever managed to climb the bars and topple over them. As a result, Lucas could get out of bed as soon as he was awake.

"Hello there little fellow," she greeted him softly. He gave her his baby grin in response. Alex was pleased that he seemed to be starting to recognize her. She sat up and swung her legs down, lifting the boy off of the floor and carrying him into the kitchen where she started water boiling for coffee. Tom only had instant, which was a real shame in Alex's opinion.

The baby had grabbed a handful of her hair and was squealing delightedly. As she worked her hair free from Lucas's chubby fist, she tried to imagine how different her life would be right now if her baby had lived. Her child would have been about six months old by now.

But what was the point in imagining? The baby was no more alive than Bobby was. Alex contemplated the little boy settled on her hip, and wondered if Lucas had in any way eased Tom's loss of Sam. The baby was certainly a delight, and probably took up a lot of his father's time, but she wasn't sure that having a baby now would have made the loss of her husband any easier to bear. Still, thinking of the baby she had lost had her examining the one perched on her hip wistfully.

"Marion?"

Tom was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching her. She had no idea how long he'd been standing there, or for that matter, how long she'd been lost in thought. The kettle was whistling and she pulled the plug from the socket.

"Hi," Alex said quickly, trying to cover up her embarrassment at him catching her lost in her contemplations. "Lucas came over to the couch, so I just took him in here with me," Alex explained, handing him hurriedly back over to his father as though she'd been caught doing something wrong. "I boiled water for coffee."

"Thanks," Tom replied, settling Lucas into a more comfortable position. "I hope he didn't wake you."

"No," Alex lied. "I was up already."

Tom walked over and leaned on the counter, watching Alex with concern wrinkling his brow. "Marion," he began hesitantly, "I hope you don't think I'm intruding, and please don't feel you have to answer. But, the way you were looking at Lucas just now…" he let his sentence trail off as Alex bit her lip. "Just forget I said anything," he said, changing his mind.

"No, it's all right," Alex said. "There's something I haven't mentioned in the group." She looked down and directed the next statement to her feet. "When the car crashed… I was pregnant at the time."

"Oh, Marion," Tom gasped. "I'm so sorry."

Alex nodded, not daring to speak. The boiled water forgotten, Tom slipped Lucas into his high chair before returning to Alex, wrapping his arms around her. She leaned into his chest, and for the first time, allowed herself to openly grieve for both losses. She took what comfort she could from Tom's strong arms wrapped around her, and buried her face in his chest.

He held her and stroked her hair with one hand until she had quieted. "Sorry," she said as soon as she could speak.

"Don't apologize," he instructed. "Let it out, sweetheart. You can't keep it all in. Trust me. When Sam died I cried my heart out every day for a long time."

"Does anything help?" Alex asked.

"Time helps," Tom said. "I wouldn't say it 'heals all wounds' but eventually you start to move on, because you've got to I suppose. Keeping busy helps too. And having people to lean on. Like the others in the group… and especially, since we've become friends."

Alex had been mopping her face up with her sleeve while he spoke, and after he finished, she offered a tentative smile. He returned it with his own warm smile.

Just then, Lucas banged a fist into the tray of his high chair, squalling with displeasure at being denied his breakfast for so long. Tom chuckled and started opening cupboards to get their breakfast ready, Alex taking one last swipe at her eyes before helping him out.

* * *

_December 2009_

"You're sure I'm not intruding?" Alex asked for the third time.

"Of course not," Tom replied. "I'll be glad of your company." He stepped back to allow her in. Lucas came toddling around the corner on unsteady but speedy legs, laughing delightedly when he saw her. Alex swept him off the ground before he could fall, lifting him into the air and giving him a quick hug before he squirmed to get down.

The two adults watched him careen around the corner again, babbling away. "He has too much energy," Tom said fondly. "Come on in," he added, taking her coat.

"Thanks," she said.

She was grateful that Tom had invited her to come over on Christmas Day. She had been alone in her misery that morning, and was glad to have the distraction now. She suspected that Tom might feel the same way. It was also his first Christmas without Sam.

Alex had seen a photo of the family of three on Christmas the previous year, Lucas just a tiny infant in his father's arms. Sam's arm was wrapped around Tom's shoulders, and they were both smiling at the camera, the Christmas tree lights twinkling merrily behind them.

Alex reflected on what she had been doing the previous year. She and Bobby had spent Christmas morning alone together before heading over to join the extended Eames family at her parent's place that afternoon.

Alex had settled down on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa that Tom had handed her. He also sat down with his own mug. "You're not heading back to visit any other family this year?" Tom asked.

"No other family to visit," Alex replied, taking a sip of her drink to avoid him reading her expression. "You're not visiting anyone else either?"

"No," Tom answered. "I haven't spoken to my parents since I moved out. My brother lives too far away, and that's pretty much it for family."

"What about Sam's family?" Alex asked.

"Sam's parents used to come and visit, back before…" he trailed off frowning. "Well, not in nearly a year now."

"Don't they want to see their grandson?" Alex asked curiously.

"They used to at least seem to take an interest in him before," Tom replied. "But I suppose they think that since we adopted Lucas, they don't really have a connection to him since Sam died."

"Some people take blood too seriously," she said.

"I agree," said Tom, nodding. "We may not share any DNA, but Lucas _is_ my son."

"Dada?" the subject of their conversation inquired, seeming to be confirming Tom's own statement. The child pointed to the presents under the tree, dancing with excitement.

"Is it time to open the presents, buddy?" Tom asked.

Lucas squealed happily and toddled back over to the tree. Pouring all of her concentration into her friend and his son, Alex almost managed to feel a bit of the joy of the Christmas season. But there would be no escaping her memories that night. Alone in the dark; she would later cry herself to sleep.


	11. False Sense of Security

**Chapter Eleven – False Sense of Security**

_December 2009_

Bobby removed a thoroughly bundled Lexie from her car seat and began stripping some of her layers as soon as he entered the Eames house. The sound of many voices talking and laughing echoed through the entranceway.

"Bobby!"

He looked up to see Penny coming around the corner, beaming. "And Lexie," she cooed.

"Here's the diaper bag," Bobby said, taking it off and pushing it towards Penny. "She's got extra sleepers in there, along with lots of formula, bottles, diapers, bibs, a few favourite toys…"

"In short, the usual," Penny interrupted. "Why are you telling me for?"

"Well… so you know," Bobby said, confused. "So you know what you've got for the day. What time should I pick her up?"

"What? You're just going to drop her off and go?" Penny asked, her smile fading.

"Well, yes," Bobby replied. "This is a time for family, and you were so insistent on having her here, and I suppose that she should be with her extended family… I got the morning with her, and Christmas Eve, and-"

"What, are we divorced?" Penny asked with a hint of amusement.

"Hey!" John Eames called, coming in behind Penny. "Who else are you married to?" he teased.

"Bobby was going to drop Lexie and go!" Penny informed John. "He's talking like we're discussing custody," she said accusingly.

"Bobby," John sighed, shaking his head.

Bobby was very confused now. "I don't understand," he said honestly.

"Son, we want you to stay," John stated.

The thought hadn't even occurred to him. He had been warring all day with thoughts of wanting to keep his daughter to himself over Christmas, before deciding that he was being selfish. He had never considered staying at the Eames family Christmas with her. Without Alex, how was he to know that they'd assumed he realized he was automatically invited?

Seeming to read his thoughts, John said, "Bobby, when you married Alex you became a part of this family. Lexie only cements it now."

"You'll come in and celebrate with us!" Penny insisted. She suddenly flushed, remembering a conversation she had had with her husband recently. "If you want to, of course," she amended. "I know I have a habit of being too pushy."

"I… well… of course," Bobby stammered.

"Good!" Penny exclaimed, unable to resist her natural inclinations any longer. Get your coat off and get in here. I have some fruit cake I want you to sample. By the way," she tossed over her shoulder, "Liz said that Nathan's looking forward to seeing his cousin." Her voice carried into the entranceway even after she had started back into the other room. "He knows that he's not getting any brothers or sisters and…" Her voice was lost in the hubbub of the large group of people.

"She can't help herself," John explained, smiling fondly. "She's in her element at big family gatherings." He reached down and picked Lexie up, tickling her belly. Bobby followed them in, taking steadying breaths. This was the first Christmas without Alex.

Though he had to leave on more than one occasion to get a handle on his emotions, Bobby managed to make it through the entire evening. He missed Alex more than words could say. But he had Lexie to think of, and she grounded him.

* * *

It was amazing how Bobby still wasn't used to coming home to an empty house. He still expected Alex to come around the corner at any moment. He had gotten used to her presence so quickly… But her absence was something he couldn't adjust to so easily.

Nine-month-old Lexie, exhausted after the bustle of the day, hardly stirred as Bobby lowered her into the crib in her room. She had outgrown the tiny cradle, really more fit for a doll than a baby, a while ago, so Bobby had finally moved her into the yellow and green nursery. Bobby pulled one of Penny's hand knitted blankets over her and stood staring down for a short time.

Finally he turned away, switching the night light on and the bedroom light off. Lexie's chest rose and fell in the dim light, one little hand curling and uncurling in her sleep. Bobby left, closing the door not quite all the way. He wandered back into the living area, flopping on the couch. He flicked half-heartedly through a few channels on the television before switching it off.

He got up and began to wander aimlessly, his brain as it so often did flicking through memories of Alex like a film on fast-forward. He closed his eyes and rubbed them vigorously, but the images remained. He went into the kitchen and threw open the fridge door, searching for something in there with alcohol content.

Though he never drank himself into a stupor when he was alone with Lexie, this night called for something to numb the pain. He flopped back onto the couch and took a drink, reminding himself that when he closed his eyes, the Alex talking and laughing besides him was just a memory.

* * *

"When are we going to act?"

"When I see fit to do so."

"And when is that going to be? It's been nine fucking months!"

"Patience, patience…"

"Why should I have patience? What's the point in waiting?"

"The point is to lull them into a false sense of security. Then, we will act. It will be like a recurring nightmare. Each time they begin to recover, I will make sure that they never live a normal life again."

"But how long are you going to wait?"

"I will tell you when the time is right. Do not question me. I am in charge."

The other man was not pleased, but he knew perfectly well that he was certainly not in charge.

* * *

_January 2010_

Bobby woke early, as he did every morning. He had spent New Year's Eve with Mike, Lewis, and Lexie. The three men had enjoyed each other's company, and that of the baby who had crawled all over them, bringing a smile to their faces before she eventually fell asleep.

Bobby could see Mike snoring gently on the couch in the living room as he went to boil water for his morning tea. Lewis was sleeping on a cot in Lexie's room. As Bobby wandered through the living room to have a look out the window, he noticed an envelope lying by the door.

Frowning, Bobby went over to get it. It appeared to have been shoved under the door. Heart hammering, he dug a finger into the flap, tearing it open. Inside was a photograph of him in the park, placing Lexie into one of the baby swings. It was clear by the trees in the background that the picture had been taken in autumn. He recognized the handwriting underneath, proclaiming simply: _Happy New Year. _

"BOYD!" Bobby exploded; checking the locks and chains on the door even though he knew there was no way Boyd was inside his apartment. His cry had woken Mike, who rolled rather ungracefully off of the couch and stumbled to his feet.

"Bobby?" he asked. "What is it?"

Bobby shoved the photograph at him without a word, marching straight into Lexie's room and picked her up. When he returned to the living room with his daughter, Mike was scrutinizing the photograph with a frown.

"It's Boyd's handwriting," Bobby informed him.

"How can you be sure?" Mike asked.

"Because I've read the case file so many times, and reviewed all the evidence, including all of Boyd's handwritten records that he kept of all of his victims," Bobby replied. "And leaving a photograph – that was what he did with… That's what he did before!"

"This is hardly threatening though," Mike began.

"Do you think so?" Bobby hissed. "Do you really think this is a friendly greeting? Just the kind of salutation you give when letting someone know your keeping your eye on them? Look at it – that was taken months ago!"

"What's he mean just with Happy New Year?" Mike asked.

"He knows damn well that this isn't a happy year!" Bobby roared. Lexie, who had been sniffling and whimpering up until that point, burst into loud wails. But for once, Bobby was less than attentive to her cries. The hand that wasn't holding her waved around in vicious gesticulations as he continued. "He's reminding me that he hasn't forgotten. I only wish I knew who his accomplice was, because he can't have been delivering it himself from prison…"

Bobby stopped yelling and faced Mike, who hadn't said anything, but was looking distinctly guilty. "What?" he demanded.

"Bobby, please try and stay calm, okay?"

But Bobby was so agitated at this point he could only glare and demand over Lexie's screams, "What. _Happened_?"

Before Mike could answer, Lewis walked out of Lexie's room, bleary eyed. "What's going on?"

"It's Boyd," Bobby spat through gritted teeth.

"The one that-"

"Yes."

Bobby glowered at Mike until he finally answered, "He escaped from prison."

"When?"

Mike looked around uncomfortably before taking a deep breath. "When he was being transferred to the prison after his sentencing," he said, and waited for the storm of Bobby's rage to wash over him.

"But," Bobby began uncomprehendingly, "But that was months ago." Then louder, and angrier. "That was _months _ago, Mike! Why wasn't I told?"

"We were looking for him, Bobby," Mike hastened to explain. "And you already had so much to deal with, and the captain thought it was best-"

"THE CAPTAIN THOUGHT IT WAS BEST?" Mike winced as though Bobby had hit him. "_You_ should have TOLD ME!" Bobby thundered. "WHAT IF HE HAD COME AFTER LEXIE?" As his daughter's name passed his lips, Bobby looked down at her and seemed to notice for the first time that she was crying. He rubbed a hand over her back and lowered his voice, though his words were still uttered in a dangerous growl.

"What if he had gone after he while she was with John and Penny? What if Boyd had slaughtered them all? What would you have said then, Mike? Would you have just given me the bullshit of _the captain thought it was best_?"

"He only threatened Alex and her partner, we didn't think he'd care about the rest of you once she was gone," Mike responded, his explanation cutting, but quick. He had truly thought that he was doing what was best. Bobby flinched, but remained silent, processing this information.

Without another word, he turned and plopped Lexie into Lewis's arms. "Watch her, will you?" he asked.

"Of course I will," he said, but he wasn't sure Bobby even heard.

"You know where the lockbox is?" Bobby asked. At Lewis's nod, Bobby gave him the combination. "If anyone but me comes in here – shoot them."

"Where are you going?" Mike asked.

"To the lab," Bobby snapped, waving the offending envelope. Mike trotted after him, leaving Lewis standing in the middle of the living room with the still sobbing Lexie.

"Bobby," Mike said. "I'm really sorry. I wouldn't have kept it from you if I thought he'd come after Lexie. I swear I-"

"I know," Bobby snarled. He knew in his heart that Mike had acted with his best interests in mind, but he was much too enraged to consider forgiveness at the moment.


End file.
